Drive Thru
by chocolateblood
Summary: Love means saying goodbye to your sanity. Trunks and Marron are forced to cooperate in extreme circumstances to save another life - even if she can't stand him.
1. Have you met life today?

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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**Have you met life today?**

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"My brother did what?" Marron Chestnut clutched the telephone receiver in her fist until her knuckles turned into white little knobs. Her insides trembled as she started out the sliding glass door of her hotel room, but the tropical beauty of the Coconut Islands lent her none of the serenity it had since her arrival.

"Marron – " the elderly female voice on the other end of the phone line held a calming intonation "I want you to stop and take a deep breath. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since you found out about Braun and Bura's... accident."

Swallowing around a painful lump of emotion in her throat, Marron closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. Her brother and his wife were dead. The realization had hardly had a chance to sink in. Marron's teeth clenched tight against the agonizing ache in her chest.

The person on the other end of the telephone was a friend, she reminded herself. It was okay to express to Lunch all the overwhelming grief she was feeling over the sudden death of Braun and Bura. But, once again, Marron found herself unable to confide her innermost feelings.

"Sit down," Lunch softly commanded.

Marron's knees bent of her own volition and she sank onto the upholstered chair beside the desk. Her mind raced with a thousand questions – questions that weren't able to form completely before being overrun by another and another. It was impossible to think coherently.

"I knew I shouldn't have opened your letter."

Lunch seemed to be talking to herself, and although the woman's voice barely penetrated her wretched stupor, Marron felt instinctive urge to comfort her.

"But I asked you to." The words sounded rusty and grating to Marron's ears. "There wasn't time to forward it. And there won't be time for me to stop in Maple City." It seemed as though someone else was speaking instead of herself, so distant and hushed was her voice. "I'll be flying straight to Willow and then renting a car..."

"Has the storm cleared enough for the airport to open?" Lunch asked.

"Not yet. All the airlines are still on standby."

Lunch sighed. "It won't be long. You'll be on your way soon."

She swallowed with difficulty. "I'm all packed. I have all my notes together about the restaurants I visited. And what recipes I could gather. Some chefs are so protective. I'm sure I have enough information to finish the article."

Dear Kami, she was babbling. Her nerves were frayed and her thinking hazy to the point that she was talking nonsense. Who cared if she wrote the article or not? The editors at _Bon Appetit_ would understand, wouldn't they? She'd just been notified of a death in her immediate family...

Immediate family. To most people, those two words meant warm, close ties. But to Marron... Suddenly the cold, empty loneliness that engulfed her was not only overwhelming, but also frightening.

"Oh, Marron – " suppressed emotion crackled in her voice like erratic sparks "I hope I arrive in time for the memorial service."

She heard her friend heave a commiserating sigh.

"It seems all the arrangements were stipulated in your brother's will," Lunch said. "No funeral. And a memorial service for family and friends to be held within forty-eight hours of..." Here she let the sentence fade with yet another sigh.

The original purpose of Lunch's call came to mind, clearing up some of the fog that had enveloped Marron's brain. She tipped up her chin. Her voice seemed to gain strength as she said, "Read the letter again, Lunch. The important part, anyway."

Lunch cleared her throat with a gravelly sound. "You have been named by Braun Chestnut and Bura Chestnut as co-guardian of Epuron Chestnut –"

"Little Ron," Marron whispered.

She fought back the panic that welled in her chest, but like unrelenting waves crashing against the sandy beach, her anxiety built higher and higher.

"I don't know anything about babies, Lunch," she said. "I've only been out of college three years. Travelling all over the place." Her insides began to quake. "I don't have a home. I rent a room, for kami's sake. Where am I going to keep a baby?"

An unbidden memory swamped her, and suddenly she was back at little Ron's christening feeling awkward and clumsy and extremely inadequate as she held her brother's child in her arms. She remembered how hurt she felt as Braun, Bura and Trunks Vegeta, Bura's brother, had laughed at her lack of maternal instincts. She'd been embarrassed by their good-natured jeering, but Marron had to admit that their opinions had been correct – she didn't have an ounce of knowledge where children were concerned.

"That poor little boy would be at a terrible disadvantage having me as his –" She stopped abruptly. "How am I ever going to –" Again she stopped. "I couldn't possibly continue to travel –" Her breath seemed to catch in her throat and she gasped, failing even to keep her hysteria at bay. "What's going to happen when –"

"Marron, stop this," Lunch softly chided. "Everything's going to be okay. The letter said _co_-guardian." She emphasized the prefix.

"Yes, yes," Marron whispered, latching on to this small ray of hope with both hands.

"Do you have any idea who else might be named?"

Robin nodded vigorously even though Lunch was thousands of miles away and unable to se through the telephone lines. "Bura's parents," she said emphatically. "My brother's in-laws live in the same town. I'm sure it's them."

"The baby's grandparents," Lunch said. "See there, you have nothing to worry about. Grandparents love their grandchildren."

Again, Marron found herself nodding. "Mr. and Mrs. Vegeta do love Ron." Relief flooded her until she thought she'd cry, but she succeeded in warding off the tears. "And they're very nice people. I met them at Braun and Bura's wedding and then again at Ron's christening."

"You have nothing to worry about then, do you? The little fella's grandparents have experience with children, and he knows them. He's comfortable with them." Her words lightened considerably. "There should be no reason you can't continue traveling for the magazine."

Marron thought a moment. "It would probably make things easier for Mr. and Mrs. Vegeta if I were to sign over all rights to them. I mean, I trust them implicitly to take good care of the baby."

"When you stay calm," Lunch commented gently, "all kinds of options come to mind."

Now it was Marron's turn to sigh. "I feel so much better about this whole thing."

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_ShortPants told me to come back, so here I am... lurking in the cobwebs. Nobody probably remembers me anymore hehehe But still, all the stories I put here are not conventional in the sense that I tweak Marron to let her not be her usual cute self. She can't be perfect all the time, can she? That would be massively unfair. And I'm evil. _


	2. Be life confident

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Be life confident

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Trunks Vegeta reread the letter he'd received from his sister's lawyer, and then let it fall atop the scatter of penciled drawings on his desk. His heart ached for Bura. He had so many wonderful memories of growing up as her big brother. They'd been close, he and Bura. And he'd always been extremely protective of her. Yet, when Braun Chestnut had come along, he'd stepped aside and let the love of his sister's life take over. He'd liked Braun. Had even come to think of him as the brother he'd never had. And now they both were gone.

Sadness prickled behind his eyelids, threatening to take the shape of tears. He sniffed and rubbed firm fingers across his jaw. He hadn't time to grieve. There were too many arrangements for the memorial service to attend to, too many phone calls that had to be made.

The sound of his mother's sobs came back to haunt him. With the condition his father was in, Trunks knew that there was no way his mother could leave him to fly back for Bura's memorial service. Trunks had tried to console his mother and finally convinced her that staying in Saturn with his dad was the best thing.

When his mother asked after the baby, Trunks had explained how Bura's best friend, Paresu, had called and offered to keep Ron until he could make arrangements for the memorial service. He needed to call his mother again sometime today.

He gazed down at the document that sat on top of the disorganized pile of articles in various stages of editing and he thought of his fourteen-month-old nephew. The memory of the child's wide-eyed frightened gaze had preyed on Trunks' mind – no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't exorcise the image if those huge, teary, blue-green eyes as Ron had called out longingly for his mother.

The lump of emotion that rose in Trunks' throat nearly choked him. He coughed, pushed himself to his feet and paced the room.

He wanted to do the right thing by Bura and Braun. Hell, that's why he'd worked so hard to quickly pull together a decent memorial service. Trunks had no idea why the two of them had stipulated that the service be held within such a short time period, but he'd done all he could to abide by their wishes.

Yes, he wanted to do the right thing by Bura and Braun. And little Ron. But Trunks had to admit, if to no one but himself, that there couldn't be a worse time for him to take on the responsibilities of a child.

He gazed over at the file cabinet and thought of the brand-new, multi-book contract he'd signed – a contract that called for new, never-before-published material. The next year was going to be very busy if he was going to create new material for a book _and_ keep up with his daily syndication demands. How was he ever going to work and take care of Ron at the same time?

As he searched through his brains for possible solutions, he dragged his fingers through his hair and realized just how badly he needed it cut. He looked around his office at the messy piles of paper, research books, newspapers and empty coffee mugs. A blunt-tipped pencil sat forgotten on the floor in the corner of the room. A thick layer of dust covered the file cabinet. He wondered how long it had been since he'd cleaned the place. And then his stomach rumbled softly, alerting him to that he hadn't eaten since late yesterday.

"How can I possibly take care of a baby when I can't even remember to take care of myself?" The words were harsh and grated with self-disgust. He went to his desk and picked up a small, framed photograph of his nephew.

"Ron," he whispered to the picture, "you deserve better than what your Uncle Trunks has to offer."

As he stared down at the boy's image, he wondered how life could be so cruel to one so young. Ron's little bow-shaped mouth curled into a tiny smile so like his mother's. The child had gotten his flaming red hair and blue-green eyes from his father. Sadness and grief welled inside Trunks, making his chest tight, his breathing ragged. His vision became blurred with the moisture that gathered in his eyes. He blinked several times, hard, hen pressed his thumb and index finger against his closed lids.

He put the picture down and inhaled deeply. There had to be an answer to this time dilemma of his regarding his work and taking custody of his nephew.

Trunks had to confess that he'd been surprised when he'd received the letter informing him that he'd been named as Ron's guardian. He guessed Bura just wanted him to know that she loved him and was thinking of him. As a bachelor, Trunks spent very little time around children. In fact, his nephew had been the one and only child he'd ever been around. But he loved the boy. Loved to drop by unexpectedly to see what havoc the little fellow was wreaking on his sister and brother-in-law's household. So, realizing his lack of experience with children, he _had_ been taken off guard to learn hat Bura wanted him to help raise her son.

But it was the _co-_guardianship that intrigued him. And he also realized that it was the _co-_guardianship that would be his saving grace. He wasn't going to be in this alone. And the fact that there was someone else who would be responsible for the baby along with himself might be the answer to his problem.

Although he hadn't had a chance to talk to her, Trunks knew that the other person named by his sister would be Paresu, the lady who was watching his nephew right now. Bura's best friend would be the perfect person to raise Ron. The woman was part of a strong and happy marriage, which was really an amazing feat in these days and times. And Bura was a wonderful mother with two adorable children of her own. He'd seen Paresu and her husband in parental action at Ron's first birthday party two months ago and they'd been wonderful wih their kids.

Hell, for all Trunks knew, Paresu and her husband could both be named as co-guardians along with him. _Co_ didn't have to stop at two. It simply meant more than one.

He could explain his problem about his new book contract to Paresu and her husband. They'd understand. And they would work with him, he was certain.

But then again, he could be entirely wrong. He leaned his elbow on top of the dusty file cabinet, a deep frown planting itself on his brow. It could be that Bura and Braun didn't have Paresu in mind as the guardian of their son. Braun _did _have a sister...

Before the idea could even take shape in his mind, Trunks dismissed it. He thought back to Ron's christening day. Marron Chestnut had looked so ill at ease as she'd held the baby. Even now, Trunks found himself chuckling aloud at the memory despite his melancholy mood.

He easily recalled Marron's image: her pale blonde hair had been short and curly, her cute little nose upturned, and those large blue eyes so quick to flash in anger. She was young, in her mid-twenties, he guessed. But her serious nature made her seem years older. She was a career woman through and through. The very kind he loved to poke fun at in his work. A smile tugged at his mouth as he thought of how easy it had been to rile her. She hadn't liked him. She'd made that plain enough. And she'd told him his opinion pieces were a waste of good paper. Yes, he though, chuckling again, he'd had some good fun the day he'd spent with Marron Chestnut.

But his sister, Bura, had told him that Marron didn't have a maternal bone in her body. Bura would never consider her sister-in-law good mother material for Ron. And Marron's total lack of any sense of humor actually made him shudder.

No, Trunks was certain that Bura would choose Paresu over Marron any day of the week. Paresu was the sensible choice. Hell, she was the _only_ choice as far as he could see. He was sure that Bura and Braun would feel the same. Besides that, Paresu was certain to be understanding where his work schedule was concerned. Things would work out just fine.

He heaved a great sigh. He was beginning to feel better about this whole situation.

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Thank you all for the warm welcome ^^ I'm glad you liked Epuron's name XD And speaking of names, I just couldn't give Trunks the surname he usually has in fanfiction. It just sends me into fits of laughter lol

Ever since I read S.P.'s comments that she shed a tear, Katy Perry's Peacock song keeps playing in my head. And I would love to see a love song written by i won't tell lol There's a reason behind Marron's cold reaction, artemis road. But that will be in the next chapter. I'm going to the beach next week, so you'll just have to wait for two weeks HEEHEEHEE

I be evil.

~chocolateblood


	3. Let it out

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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**Let it out**

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Marron rushed up the steps of the small church, finger-combing her wayward curls as she went. Stopping at the entrance, she took a moment to steel herself and shake the droplets of spring rain from the shoulders of her coat before she eased open the heavy door and slipped inside. The tiny, windowless vestibule was cool and dark, and she found herself squinting and blinking until her eyes became adjusted to the light change. Her gaze was drawn to a small lamp that sat on a flat-topped podium, its low-wattage bulb throwing a ray of dim light on an elegant white register. She neatly signed her name and replaced the pen into its holder.

The sound of perfectly harmonized voices suddenly filled the air. Marron followed the beautiful singing into the interior of the church. She halted just inside the doorway, a huge lump rising in her throat at the sight of the crowded room. These people were friends to Braun and Bura. All these people loved and cared about her brother and his wife. All of them had come to remember.

Feeling trembly all of a sudden, Marron slid into an empty spot at the very back of the church. She scrambled in her purse for a tissue, and when she couldn't find one, the woman next to her offered one along with a small smile. Marron nodded her thanks.

She relaxed against the back of the pew, closed her eyes and let the music of the choir flow all around her and through her chaotic mind. She'd made it. She'd actually arrived in Mahogany in time for the memorial service. And it was a small miracle that she had. Of course, now there was a seventy-two gold speeding ticket that had to be paid. But, despite that, she said a quick prayer of thanks that she hadn't missed the service.

Trunks watched Marron from his seat at the front of the church. The minister had offered for him to sit in the very front pew – the usual place for family members – but Trunks had know n that he would have been there all alone and opted to position himself opposite the choir. He'd used the excuse that he needed to be within easy reach of the dais when it was his turn to speak. From this vantage point in front of the church, he could see the comings and goings of the attendees.

He's seen Braun's sister arrive – thirty minutes into the service. Her curly blonde hair had caught his attention has soon as she'd stepped over the threshold of the sanctuary. She hadn't come up front to the family pew, but had taken a seat at the back.

The minister of the church stood to speak, but Trunks only half heard the words. Marron looked tired, he observed. Dark circles under her deep-set eyes gave her a haunting look. He'd only met the woman twice – he'd never forget either encounter – but seeing her again brought to his mind the same observation that there was something lonely, something isolated about her solemn nature. He remembered both times he'd met her, there had been something about her that had kept her in his thoughts for days and weeks after the experience. He'd found himself puzzling over what it was that so intrigued him about her, until finally he'd become angry with himself for wasting time on the woman and put her out of his mind. Hell, he ultimately concluded, why throw away perfectly good brain power on someone who didn't even _like_ him?

Her eyelids slowly rose and the haunting look turned into a mixture of something tragic and ethereal all at the same time. He found the combination lovely, almost... seductive.

_You're sick, Trunks,_ he told himself. _The woman's grieving, for kami's sake._ But he continued to study her as she gazed up at the large stained-glass image above the altar.

He'd been told that she was on assignment in the Coconut Islands and assumed that she'd been contacted about the accident, but Trunks couldn't help worrying during the past forty-eight hours out whether or not she'd be able to fly across an ocean and then the country to arrive in time. Well, he was glad to see that attending her brother's memorial service meant a little more to her than her precious career.

_Now, that's not fair, _a silent inner voice scolded. And he knew it was true. Marron Chestnut might be a career woman, but that didn't mean she wasn't a decent human being. She must have loved her brother just as much as he had loved his sister, Bura. His nerves were frayed, his emotions in turmoil over this loss, and that was the only excuse he had to explain his mean and petty assessment of Marron's late arrival.

When Trunks noticed that Dende had gone silent, he turned his gaze to the man to see the minister motion him forward, Trunks felt his face flame with embarrassment. If he'd been paying attention instead of focusing his thoughts on Marron Chestnut, he'd have been prepared to speak rather than being taken off guard. He rose, tugged on the hem of his jacket and made his way to the dais.

Seeing Trunks Vegeta cross the altar area, Marron almost groaned out loud. If he made some kind of wisecrack about Braun and Bura, she'd just scream. Both times Marron had met Bura's brother, the man had infuriated her with his jeering and critical remarks. Nothing was safe from his black humor.

Marron remembered that Trunks had made asinine comments about Bura and Braun's relationship at the wedding. Her own career had been fodder for his jokes that same day. He'd even used Ron's christening, an event that should have been serious and sacred, and he'd turned the day into material for his dark satire. That was also the day that Trunks had embarrassed her beyond rational thought –

"Today is a day of celebration..."

His voice broke into her dark musings, and she was so startled by his choice of words that her chin tipped upward and her eyes became glued to his face. She made a conscious effort to keep her mouth shut from dropping open. If this was his idea of a joke... She didn't finish the thought when she realized that she wasn't the only one surprised by his statement, for the room grew utterly quiet and still as everyone waited for him to continue.

"Bura and Braun didn't want us to mourn their passing," he said. "They didn't want us, their family and friends, to gather together for a sad and somber affair. They didn't want a funeral."

Marron watched Trunks inhale deeply, and she could tell that it took a great deal of control and effort for him to pull the corners of his mouth into a tiny smile.

"Bura and Braun," he continued, "didn't want us to feel miserable or brokenhearted by their passing. Of course... we will." His tone quivered slightly as he added the aside. "But my sister and her husband wanted us –" He faltered, cleared his throat, and when he began again, his words were stronger, more vibrant. "It was their wish that we celebrate today by recounting our memories of them."

Marron closed her eyes. His words were beautiful, she had to admit. And the whole idea of celebrating her brother and sister-in-law through memories was beautiful too.

"Bura and Braun loved each and every one of us," Trunks said. "They knew we would all have a need to grieve for them. But it was important to them that we do it as joyously and... cheerfully as possible."

Sitting there in the back of the church, Marron let herself become wrapped in the warm, comforting cocoon of Trunks' tone. She'd forgotten how deep, how rich... how memorable his voice was. The acoustics in the high-ceilinged church amplified the melodic pitch of his narrative. His words were inflected with an intense resonance that seemed to smooth across her mind, across her skin as if it were warm, liquid velvet.

"We've enjoyed some beautiful music sung the choir," he said. "These songs were some of Braun and Bura's very favorites." This time his smile was fond and didn't have to be forced. "I know that from now on until the end of my life I will remember them both whenever I hear these melodies." He looked toward the front pews. "Several of Bura's friends have asked to speak. They have biblical readings and poetry they want to share. And some of Braun's friends and co-workers would like to relate some of their thoughts."

As soon as the first person stepped up to the dais to speak, the weird feeling began. Marron listened to the lyrical psalms, the beautiful poetry, but the thoughts and feelings these people expressed started to form a strange emptiness inside her. She was surprised by the number of people who rose to speak, and soon Marron realized that this wasn't part of the planned service. These men and women didn't want to wait until after the memorial service to express the love they felt for Braun and Bura. These people wanted to be included in this most intimate memorial tribute.

One by one, friends of Bura and Braun verbalized their fondest memories of the deceased couple. Some of these memories were sad, some funny, some ironic, but all were poignant. And with each remembrance, Marron found herself learning something new about her brother and his wife. With each remembrance, Marron discovered how little she knew about Braun and Bura.

Her chin quivered as the huge, black void insider her yawned wide. The small church didn't seem big enough to hold her and the emptiness she felt. Suddenly the room seemed as though it were closing in on her. She felt the need to flee. But at the same time, she wanted to stay. As the affectionate, soul-stirring reminiscences flowed, Marron wanted so badly to pluck them from the air and clutch them to her, have them as her very own. But that was impossible.

She pressed her fingers against her lips, trying to hold back the lonely sobs that threatened to choke her. No, she couldn't have these memories. They belong to other people – people who _knew_ Braun and Bura. Her mind whirled with sadness and confusion as yet another story about her brother was recounted, and he ever-widening hollowness swelled until she thought she'd fall into its black, bottomless depths.

Instinct screamed at her; if she couldn't snatch up some of these wonderful memories to fill this emptiness expanding inside her, then she needed to somehow avoid them. Hide from them. Run from them.

Her gaze darted around the room, and as she saw that there was actually a small line of people now forming at the front of the church, she fought the urge to press her hands over her ears. Again, instinct screamed for her to flee. Gathering her purse, Marron surrendered to impulse and escaped.

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_I got sick right after my beach trip xp So it took a while longer to get well and go back to normal life._

_artemis road - I wasn't telling you off o.o It's hard to convey feelings when they're just words without actions hehe I was thinking more in a 'wait and see' tone._

___blue tinkerbell, wine and roses, MJAmore - there can never be enough t/m stories for us XD_

_sp - what a scary thought. I think Marron singing Peacock to Trunks would either give me nightmares or send me into giggle fits._


	4. Give your child an advantage for life

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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**Give your child an advantage for life**

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Later that afternoon, Marron entered the building that housed the offices of the family court. Before she'd left Coconut Islands, she'd been informed by her friend Lunch that there was to be a meeting with a court clerk.

Marron had spent two hours sitting in a small coffee-house frantically trying to ignore the vacant feeling inside her. She'd focused all her thoughts on Ron, and she'd reaffirmed her conclusion that she was probably the worst person to raise a child.

Yes, she could ask the magazine to give her a job where travel wasn't expected. But her job was the least of her reasons for feeling inadequate to be the baby's guardian. She knew nothing about children. Nothing. And even worse than that, Marron had come to understand the stark reality that she knew nothing about her nephew's parents. She wouldn't be able to tell the child anything about his mom and dad. Handing over full rights to Bura's parents was the best thing for her to do for her brother's son.

Pulling open the glass door, she went inside. Her heels clicked a steady, hollow rhythm on the tiled hallway floor. She spied a sign for the ladies' room and followed the arrow.

The air had that sweet, bubble-gum smell of just-scrubbed public rest rooms. She looked in the mirror over the sink and nearly groaned aloud. The light spring rain had drenched her to the skin. Her hair was a mess. Pulling a comb from her purse, she ran it through her curls, but they seemed to spring back with a life of their own and she gave up.

She looked gaunt and hollow-eyed, and she reached up to try to pinch some color into her cheeks. She regretted not staying for the gathering after the memorial service to see Bura's parents and Ron. She hadn't seen them at the church at all, but she'd figured that they were sitting up front. She hoped her pale-as-a-ghost complexion didn't frighten the baby.

The office was easy to find. She'd taken the stairs to the second floor, found the correct door and knocked.

"Come in," a muffled voice called.

Marron opened the door and smiled at the young woman – the _very_ young woman – who sat behind the gray metal desk.

"Hi," she said, her voice as perky as her smile. She stood and offered her hand. "I'm Chocolate Blood."

Marron introduced herself and said, "I hope I'm in the right place."

"Oh, yes," Chocolate told her. "I was just looking over the file. You're a little early. Have a seat."

Marron perched herself on he very edge of the seat. "I'm glad I'm early," she said. "I'm glad I have the chance to explain what I've planned to do about my nephew." She paused only an instant before continuing. "You see I've decided to sign over all rights to Bura's parents. I think they'll make excellent guardians for Ron."

The bewildered frown on Chocolate's face didn't even register with Marron, so intent was she on justifying her actions.

"You see," she repeated, clenching her hands in her lap. "I know so little about children. My job takes me all over the world." She tried to swallow and realized how cottony her mouth felt. "I just want you to understand that it's not that I don't love Ron, it's just that..." She felt wretched inside. "I've never had anyone depend on me before."

The truth was she'd never _wanted _anyone to depend on her. The very idea frightened her to the core

Marron searched the face of the young court clerk and prayed that the woman would understand. Silent seconds ticked by and Marron wished Chocolate would say something, anything.

"Well," the young woman began slowly, "I'm a little confused about what you want to do."

Before Marron could respond, the door to the small office opened.

Chocolate stood and smiled at the man who entered the room. "You must be Mr. Vegeta," she said. "I'm Chocolate Blood."

So surprised by Trunks' appearance, Marron suddenly became paralyzed as questions swan through her brain. What was _he_ doing here? Had he been named co-guardian too? But where were Bura's parents? How could Braun and Bura have chosen _him_ to-

"Yes, I'm here about the guardianship of my nephew, Epuron Chestnut."

Marron force herself to raise her gaze to his face. The door hid most of him, but she saw a tiny slice of his profile. It seemed that he wasn't yet aware of her presence, and Marron was relieved by that fact. She could use another moment or two to pull herself together.

"Well, come in, Mr. Vegeta," Chocolate said.

"Trunks," he said. "Call me Trunks."

Unwittingly, Marron's hand went up to smooth over her damp, unruly curls. If Trunks Vegeta – a man who trivialized every aspect of life, was named the other co-guardian, that changed everything. She couldn't possibly let this snide, disrespectful man raise her nephew. She couldn't possibly.

"Have a seat, Trunks," Chocolate said. "As you can see, Ms. Chestnut has already arrived. Since we're all here, we might as well discuss the situation."

"Oh..."

There was surprise in his blue gaze. Surprise and something else, something she couldn't interpret. But she had no doubt that her presence had taken him off guard. _Well good,_ she thought. Because his unexpected appearance had done the same to her.

"But..." His voice trailed and a frown planted itself firmly between his brows. He turned his full attention to stepping into the room and closing the door, an act that seemed to take more time than it should have.

When he looked at her again, there was something in his eyes, something he couldn't quite name. But whatever it was caused the air in the room to become so filled with tension that it was hard for her to draw a breath. She could feel herself becoming flustered. Damn, why did she let this man do this to her every time they met?

She would not allow him to make her feel embarrassed and awkward. Not this time.

Tipping up her chin, she said, "I've never seen you at a loss for words, Trunks."

Her statement had been tinged with sarcasm, and it acted like a good douse of water on a small camp fire, diffusing the strain that had sprung up so suddenly. He lips curled slightly into a crooked smile – a _sexy,_ crooked smile, she thought not for the first time in her life. And not for the first time in her life, she felt her stomach tilt at the sight of it. She swallowed hard. She refused to let herself become rattled by his good looks.

"Hello, Marron," he said.

"Trunks."

"So," Chocolate chimed in, her tone evincing her relief, "you two _do_ know each other. I was beginning to wonder."

"Oh, we do know each other," Trunks assured her.

"Well, that's good." The court clerk motioned to the chair. "Sit, sit," she told him. "Let's talk. We have lots to go over, and Ms. Chestnut was just telling me how she was thinking of signing over all rights to –"

"B-but wait," Marron stammered in a rush. "That was before..." Her heart pounded in her chest. "That was when I thought..." How could she say this without offending him? She tried again "That was –"

"Before you knew I was the other co-guardian?" One of Trunks' brows rose with his question.

Somehow, having him finish her thought made it sound even worse than her saying the words herself. But he'd captured her idea exactly.

His mouth curled into that smile again and she felt her insides go all warm and... funny.

"I'll be honest," he said. "I'm more than a little surprised to see _you_ here."

"Oh? And why is that?" she said, a waspish tone in her voice. "If _you_ don't mind my asking."

Immediately she realized her mistake, and she felt the urge to kick herself for rising to his bait.

The court clerk crinkled the papers she held in her hand, and when that didn't get her the attention she wanted, she cleared her throat. "Now, let's just calm down," she said, sounding as authoritarian as possible.

"Yes, Marron," Trunks agreed wholeheartedly. "Can't you see the girl wants to speak?"

"The _woman_ wants to speak," Marron snapped as she crossed her arms in front of her desk. She was fuming, and what riled her even more was the fact that she couldn't figure out with whom she was more angry – Trunks or herself. Why did this man's smug tone infuriate her so? She wondered. Why did she let him get under her skin? And why did he have to do it when she was sitting here looking like a drowned rat?

She stopped and blinked. Why did it matter _what_ she looked like? Why did she care? The questions burned through her brain. Why was she so angry, anyway? All the man had done was voice her own thoughts for her. She didn't know why she was so incensed. Couldn't come up with a logical reason. Well, logic be damned! All she knew was that she was steaming like a whistling teakettle.

"Surprised to see me," she muttered under her breath, unable to let go of the irritation he'd induced. "And who was it you were expecting?" she mumbled. "I _am_ Braun's only sister, you know. I'm all the family he head."

He turned his gaze on her. "Let me get this straight. You're Braun's only relative, yet you're ready to give up guardianship of his son." He snorted in a most ungentlemanly manner. "What? Would a baby cramp the career woman's style?"

"My job has nothing to do with this."

"Please stop!" Chocolate's tone of voice and her facial features took on a plaintive, beseeching quality. "Don't argue. This is my first case ever, and I wanted to do a good job."

Trunks heard the whiny court clerk, but he didn't take his eyes from Marron's face. There were rings under her deep-set sky blue eyes. She looked tired. And angry. Why was he harassing her? He wondered. He had certainly meant to be compassionate when he came face-to-face with her. He sighed. H woman just had a way of rubbing him the wrong way.

He'd been taken completely off guard when he realized she was the other co-guardian. He'd been expecting Bura's best friend, Paresu. He'd even talked to Paresu this morning, told her that he'd meet her here at family court. She was to bring Ron with her. She hadn't refuted anything he'd said, she'd simply agreed to everything. Of course they had both been in a rush, but naturally, he'd believed that she was the other guardian. Then to find Marron Chestnut sitting here... No wonder he'd been taken by surprise.

And now Marron was staring him down, her mouth set in a grim line. This situation couldn't have gotten off to a worse start.

Turning to the befuddled young woman behind the desk, Trunks conjured a charming smile. "Chocolate," he said. "It is Chocolate, isn't it?"

"Yes."

She nodded like an eager puppy, obviously desperate for a solution to the messy problem that had somehow developed.

"Well, Chocolate, it seems that Marron and I were both a little surprised by each other's presence."

"Oh, but I thought I mentioned both your names in the letter I sent you." Apologetic innocence colored her statement and she searched through the papers on her desk. "Oh," she said, looking crestfallen when she'd found her copies of said letters, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Trunks assured her. "Since this is your first case –" he chuckled "- we'll cut you a little slack. Won't we, Marron?"

Marron's smile was forced as she continued to glare at him. "Of course we will."

"See there," he said. "Now, if you'll give Marron and I some time to talk..."

"That's an excellent idea." The clerk hopped up and almost slipped in her haste to get to the door. She pulled it open and it banged into the metal chair Trunks was sitting in, but when she turned back to them, she didn't waste time with apologies. "Please don't fight," she begged. "If you get too loud I'll have to call for security, and wouldn't look too good for me... seeing as how this is –"

"Your first case," Trunks finished for her. "We'll be on our best behavior."

Chocolate shot them both a perky little grin and closed the door behind her.

* * *

_One short comment: I can't stand the surname most fanfics give Trunks so I just put Vegeta instead._

_And for the other obvious thing, *just grins* =D_


	5. Make it happen

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

**Make it happen

* * *

**

After Chocolate was gone, Trunks swung his gaze to Marron. He nearly chuckled at her tight, closed-off body language. The grim countenance on her face, the disapproval in her eyes, the austere set of her mouth. She was the perfect example of he frustrated female, and it was killing him not to make a comment that would bring that fact to attention.

She opened her mouth to speak, and he dutifully remained silent, gladly handing her the shovel to dig her own grave.

"First," she stated flatly, "I want to make it perfectly clear that my job has nothing whatsoever to do with my _thinking_ of signing over my rights to Ron. I would call the magazine tomorrow and they'd give me a position where I didn't have to travel." She hesitated, then leaned forward a fraction of an inch as she continued. "I was expecting your parents, Trunks. I was thinking that I'd give them total custody, because... because..."

_Because I know next to nothing about raising children,_ she wanted to say. Bu she clamped her lips shut, unable to bring herself to unburden herself to someone who would only use the information against her in some sneering joke. She didn't see any reason to reveal to him her most personal reasons for her actions. She owed Trunks Vegeta no excuses. He deserved none.

She inhaled deeply and leaned even closer to him. "I was expecting Bura and Braun to name at least one, maybe two, mature, responsible adults –"

"Wait a minute." He lifted his hand, palm side out. "There's no need to insult me."

But he really wasn't too offended by her words. She'd let him know a long time ago how she felt about him. He was more interested in the information she'd disclosed about her job.

"I'm sorry," she begrudgingly allowed. "I don't want to fight."

Trunks' mind churned. Since his sister hand' named Paresu as co-guardian, it looked as if his plans to get her to help him with the baby – at least for the time it took him to create new material for his book – were going to fall through. If he could get Marron to agree to stick around for a few months... A hastily thought out plan began to form in his head.

Marron straightened her back and crossed her arms again. She hadn't meant to hurt Trunks' feelings. But at the same time, she had to be honest with the man. This was no time to become tongue-tied or flustered. She simply had to put her feelings on the line.

"To tell you the truth," she said, "my finding out that you're the other guardian changes everything. I can't in good conscience allow you to raise my brother's baby. Just look at you." She pointed at him. "You're a mess. It looks like your hair hasn't been cut in months. Your shirt cuff is frayed." Her gaze traveled down the length of him. "You probably have holes in your socks."

At that moment, the silence of the tiny office was interrupted by a loud grumbling sound emanating from his stomach.

"And you probably haven't eaten today, either."

Hearing no rebuttal from him, Marron was overtaken with a sudden boldness that surprised her. She looked him in the eye. "And I haven't even mentioned the fact that you never take anything seriously. You live your whole life making a big joke out of everything. I can't allow you to influence Ron with your weird, one-sided, chauvinistic views."

She expected him to explode in anger, to jump from his chair, to pace the room, to tell her off, to yell and shout. But he did none of these things.

His blue gaze was calm as he suggested, "We could do it together."

The words stunned her. "Do what together?"

"Take care of Ron," he said.

She had only discovered a few minutes ago that, for some reason, Bura's parents couldn't take Ron. And she was only just beginning to contemplate the problems involved in raising the baby herself. The idea of spending even a short period of time with Trunks – let alone the years and years it would take until her nephew was grown – scared the life out of her. She couldn't even think about it.

"Where are you parents, Trunks?" The question came out sounding like a lamentation.

The corners of his mouth drew down. "They've retired to Jupiter. My father caught an alien bug six months ago. He's receiving treatment there."

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't know."

"Mom spends all her time caring for him."

"Oh." The tiny exclamation left her in a breathy whisper. Hearing about Trunks' parents' plight brought back vivid memories of her own parents, and the reason she'd been determined all her life to be independent.

Trunks reached up to rub his neck, and Marron noticed how his lavender hair fell down over the back of his hand. She'd chastised him about its length just moments ago, but now she found herself wanting to touch the silky locks, to stroke her fingers along the warm skin of his neck – in an effort to console him, of course.

He stared at her. "We could do it, Marron."

"No... I'm not sure..." She shook her head dubiously. "I really don't feel that we –"

"It wouldn't have to be forever." He placed the palms of his hands flat on the arms of the chair. "We could do it for say... eight or ten months. By then, we'd know each other better. We'd know which one of us is more capable of raising Ron."

"I don't know." Her words came out slowly and were definitely evident of her uncertainty. There was so much they hadn't talked about, so many things that needed to be discussed. Bu she found herself saying, "Eight or ten months?"

"Mmm-hmm," he said, smiling. "We could handle that, couldn't we?"

He was being so nice, she thought, so different. _So charming._ Almost as though he were up to something –

Just then the door was pushed open, nudging into Trunks' chair. He hopped up and pulled open the door and a tall brunette walked into the small office. On her hip was perched a toddler with flame-red curs atop his head. The baby grinned and clapped gleefully at the sight of Trunks.

"_Unka, Unka,_" he called.

"Ron!" Trunks took the child from the woman. "How ya doing, big guy? Hi there, Paresu."

The woman nodded bashfully. "Sorry I'm late. Ron fell asleep during the service, so I took him home for a nap and he just woke up not too long ago."

"That's okay," Trunks told her.

"I had no idea what you were talking about this morning," she said. "I wasn't sure what meeting you meant. I just figured you needed me to bring Ron down here."

Marron listened to the two of them as Trunks tried to explain the misunderstanding. Evidently he had thought that this woman was going to be named as Ron's guardian. Their conversation became muffled as Marron focused on her nephew.

Ron was beautiful! Marron hadn't seen him since he was about six weeks old. The boy was the spitting image of her brother, Braun, and Marron felt tears spring to her eyes.

"I'd like you to meet Marron Chestnut," she heard Trunks say. "Marron, this is Marron Son. She was Bura's best friend, and she's been keeping an eye on Ron for the past... few days."

"Nice to meet you," Marron said.

Again, Paresu's nod was bashful, her dark brown hair falling into her eyes. She looked up at Trunks. "Listen, I really have to go. I left the kids in the car with Goten and it won't take long for them to drive him stark raving mad."

Trunks chuckled. "Sure. And thanks again for everything, Paresu." He closed the door behind her.

"Hey there, Ron," Marron said.

The baby laughed.

"You want to come to Aunt Marron?"

Ron leaned into Trunks' shoulder and plunked his tiny thumb in his mouth.

"It's all right," Trunks assured her. "He'll get to know you quickly."

Chocolate came into the office. "Well, did we get everything worked out?"

She scooted around Trunks and sat behind her desk. Trunks sat back down and placed the baby on his knee.

"We think so," he said.

Looking over at Marron, Chocolate asked, "You're going to sign over the rights?"

"Oh, no," Trunks said in a rush. "We're going to do this. Together."

He smiled at Marron for confirmation and she made a valiant effort to smile back, but her lips felt trembly. How could he be so bright and chipper about this sudden turn of events? She was having difficulty dealing wit the way her plans kept bending and twisting with such unpredictability. She wasn't at all certain this was the right thing to do.

Chocolate heaved a sigh. "Then we do have a problem, because the judge won't appoint you both. I mean, he would have if you were married to each other, but... There will be money issues to be addressed, and decisions about the child's welfare. His schooling and such. What if he two of you didn't agree?" She shrugged. "Whose opinion would, or should, hold more weight?"

Marron didn't know whether to feel disappointed or elated. But Trunks' frustration was as clear as the frown knitting his brow.

Chocolate was shaking her head as she eased her back into her chair. "It's just too bad you two aren't married."

Sensing Trunks' mischievous gaze on her, Marron swiveled her head in his direction.

"Oh, no," she said after seeing the blatant message in his twinkling blue eyes. "Don't you look at me like that."

* * *

_Thank you for comments, just a space duck, but life gets in the way sometimes xp_

_TrunksOnly, I hope this lives up to your lol_

_And... as for the cameo... well, what can I say? What wouldn't we give to just have a second of that magnificent smile directed in our way? Even if we know he's just turning on the charm to get us out of his (pretty) hair!_

_ Happy Valentine's Day everybody! =D_


	6. Unlike any other

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

**Unlike any other**

* * *

"That was the tackiest wedding I've ever attended." Marron crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the small, square-shaped window of the plane, but the inky blackness of night kept her from seeing anything. She'd spent so much of her time over the past two days traveling in the air, that she was becoming accustomed to the constant ringing in her ears from the vibration of the huge jet engines.

"Hey," Trunks said, pausing long enough to chuckle, "our nuptials may have been as tacky as a polyester leisure suit, but is solved my problem."

His choice of words hit her wrong and she swung her gaze in his direction.

"_Our _problem," he quickly amended.

Marron sighed. "But a drive-through wedding chapel?" she asked. "I felt like I was going to the bank."

Again, he laughed. "Fly to Cactus, deposit a fee and withdraw a marriage certificate. Pretty convenient."

She shook her head. "Pretty tacky," she muttered under her breath.

Suddenly Marron felt more tired than she'd ever felt in her life. Resting her elbow on the narrow window ledge, she closed her eyes and rubbed her fingers lightly across her forehead.

"You must be exhausted."

The teasing lilt in Trunks' voice was replaced with genuine concern.

"Why don't you lean your head back and take a nap?"

She nodded and tried to comply with his suggestion. So much had happened over the past two days. And there was something about traveling thousands of miles to attend a memorial service only to be whisked off once again to travel yet more thousands of miles to be wed that made a person just a little restless.

She couldn't believe everything that h happened to her. Just yesterday – or had it been the day before? – she'd been sitting in a plush hotel suite preparing notes for the article she was writing about restaurants in the Coconut Islands tropics. Who would have thought that she'd become the guardian of her fourteen-month old nephew and wife to the child's uncle. It was ludicrous! Laughable! Or would have been laughable, if she were the type of person who found the twists and turns of fate a laughing matter.

A sigh escaped her. Trunks was just such a person. _I'll bet he's dying to let loose an uproarious guffaw, _she thought. And he was certain he would do just that before all this was over.

Mrs. Trunks Vegeta! This whole business was so… weird.

But what else could she have done? she asked herself. She couldn't have let him raise Ron. No way! She couldn't have allowed that to happen.

No, she'd simply stick to Trunks' plan; remain his wife for eight months, ten at the most, he'd said, and in that time she'd take a crash course in baby rearing. With Trunks there to give what help he could, Marron was a little more confident that she could learn the basics. She felt the tiniest twinge of guilt about using him this way – for using him was exactly what she was doing. Because she would never, ever agree to give him full custody of Ron. Her future might be a little fuzzy and out of focus right now regarding her career and where she and Ron would finally make their home, but she had plenty of time to work out all those details.

Sleep eluded her, and there was nothing to read except the complimentary magazine published by the airline. The only thing left to do was talk.

"Will we be picking Ron up when we get in?" she asked Trunks.

"I think we should. I mean, Paresu has had Ron for… Let's see… at least five days now." He absently rubbed the back of his neck. "You see, Paresu was baby-sitting for Braun and Bura when they... left for their long weekend in the mountains."

She lifted her head and focused on Trunks' clear, blue gaze. "What happened to them, Trunks?" she asked, the words barely a whisper. "What happened to Braun and Bura."

There was anguish in his eyes when he looked at her. "Carbon monoxide poisoning," he told her. "The cabin they were renting had a gas furnace – a gas furnace that hadn't been cleaned properly. Spring nights in the mountains can get a little chilly." His eyes shifted to the small window. "Either Bura or Braun turned up the heat before they went to bed." He cleared his throat and focused on her face as he finished, "and they didn't wake up."

Sadness welled in her throat and her eyes prickled with emotion. Who would've have thought that the purely innocent act of turning the thermostat dial could kill Braun and Bura, two people who were –

Who were what? She wondered. At today's memorial service she'd made the painful discovery that she didn't know her brother and his wife. Didn't know them at all.

The yawning emptiness that had threatened her so fiercely this afternoon at the church now returned with a vengeance.

She'd thought she'd pushed it aside, buried it along with her grief, until she could take care of the meeting in family court. Then that meeting had gone haywire and here she was on an airplane with a thin gold band around the third finger of her left hand. The turmoil of the day had helped her to forget the hollowness inside her that should have been filled with warm, happy memories of growing up with Braun, glittering reminiscences of her brother, his wife and his baby son. But she had none. There was nothing to fill the ugly void inside her. And the barren feeling grew.

Marron felt the overwhelming urge to flee. As she did this afternoon when she'd left the service to walk in the rain until she'd found the small coffee shop. But in the close confines of the airplane, there was no place for her to go.

Squeezing her eyelids shut, she felt hot tears slip silently down her face.

"Oh, Marron." Trunks' rich voice was a near whisper. "They didn't suffer."

He slid his hand over hers. The warmth of his skin gave her more comfort than she'd ever dreamed was possible. His touch seemed to chase away the hated empty feeling in her chest.

Almost of their own volition, her fingers tightened their grip on his. She didn't want to, but she needed to use this man as a lanyard to tranquility until she could regain her composure.

She could never tell him what she was feeling – reveal to him the black, gaping hole inside her. He would never understand. In fact, he'd most probably laugh or jeer at her vulnerability just as he'd done at little Ron's christening.

No, she could never let on how she was hurting. But his presence alone helped her. The warm solidness of him somehow made her feel less susceptible to the threatening emptiness.

With a gentleness that nearly took away her breath, Trunks smoothed his other hand along her forearm. Heat penetrated the thin cotton fabric of her sleeve and radiated in concentric waves up her arm.

The void diminished, smaller and smaller, until it was a dark pinpoint that she could easily push to the back of her brain. Trunks had rescued her from falling headlong into the terribly cavern of… of… She wasn't able to put name to it. Didn't want to dwell on the horrible feeling long enough to do so. But Trunks had saved her from it. Without even knowing he'd done anything.

She sniffed, smoothed away the tear track that trailed down her cheek and gave him a small smile. "I'm glad to know that, Trunks. Thank you."

"And I've already contacted my lawyer about suing the owners of the cabin." His gave turned suddenly ruthless. "When I finish with them, Ron will want for nothing."

"Except a mother and father." The bitter aside slipped from her lips before she could stop it.

His mouth thinned as he nodded ruefully. "You're right," he said. "But you and I are going to do what we can. We're going to give Ron everything we're able to give." Then he added, "For as long as we're able to give it."

Marron inhaled slowly, deeply, somewhere in the pleasant hazy state between deep sleep and alert wakefulness. The scent that enveloped her was warm and woodsy, as if she was walking through a forest in the heat of summer. But in her groggy state, she noticed something else about the bosky aroma. Something different. Something her sluggish rationale couldn't quite dine.

Her subconscious made a valiant effort to snuggle back in to the comfort and security of slumber, and it nearly succeeded. But there was something strange about her pillow, the semiconscious part of her argued. Something about it needed to be duly note recognized. For her own good.

An audible, sleepy sigh escaped her lips as Marron made a lethargic effort to discover what it was her brain was warning her against. Twisting her head the tiniest bit, she settled into a warm, unbelievably comfortable niche beneath her cheek. Granted, the pillow wasn't as soft as what she was used to, but the heat radiating from it more than made up for the downy softness. And there was something about the niche that wasn't right. But the scent was wonderful. Descriptive words floated languidly though her mind – heated… secure… arboreal… male. Male?

Marron dragged her eyelids open and leaned forward in an attempt to sit up, but a weight on her shoulder made it impossible.

She blinked, and very slowly, very carefully, she looked down. There snuggled firmly under her breast was a hand. Another was planted on the flat of her stomach. Hands that were not hers her fuzzy brain reasoned. Male hands. Her thinking was becoming clearer with each second that passed. Trunks' hands.

Heavens above! She was nestled in Trunks' arms like a wanton vixen. What in the world would he think?

She lay perfectly still, praying that he, too, had dropped off to sleep. Lifting her gaze so she could view his face, she saw that his eyes were closed, his breathing rhythmic and slow.

He was such a handsome man. Even with him looking tired. Even with his lavender-hair untrimmed and hanging over the collar of his shirt.

His brows were well formed over his eyes. His nose was straight. Not too big, nor too small, but just right. His cheekbones were strong, angular, as was his jaw line. There were hollows in his cheeks such as those seen on models and health-food fanatics. But Marron was certain Trunks' hollows had nothing to do with eating health food, but the lack of eating altogether. She nearly chuckled with her next thought- Trunks needed taking care of jus as much, if not more, thank little Ron.

A warning bell went off in her head. Looking after Trunks was not part of her plan. Learning to take care for her nephew was her top priority. And that's all she wanted to focus on.

_But sleeping in his arms had been heaven!_

The whispery opinion came from somewhere in the back of her brain. Well, she decided, that's where it will have to return. She couldn't afford to complicate an already difficult situation by becoming physically attracted to Trunks.

Noticing that her skirt had hitched up to show a healthy slice of her thigh, she stirred just enough so she could tug the material somewhat into place.

Trunks straightened in his seat, pulling his arms from around her. He stretched and covered his mouth as he yawned.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice hoarse with sleep. "I must have dozed off."

Marron said a quick, silent thank you to her guardian angel. He hadn't noticed how she'd snuggled close to him. Hadn't seen her bare leg.

"I'm sorry I woke you," she murmured, meaning every word with every fiber of her being.

He rubbed his hands over his face and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Oh, but I'm the one who's sorry."

His grin filled with a kind of mischief that naturally put a person on guard. Marron stopped smoothing the wrinkles out of her blouse and waited.

"I tried to stay away," he said. "I was really enjoying the way you were clinging to me. Like a flea on a dog's back."

* * *

_Why was Bura's husband called Braun? Because whenever I heard 'marron' my mind automatically translated for me in French - brown. Braun is brown in German. So it's all related... in my mind, at least lol_


	7. One thing leads to another

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

**One thing leads to another

* * *

**

_Like a flea on a dog's back._

Marron glared. How could she ever have worried about being physically attracted to this man? All he had to do was open his mouth and he instantly dissolved any temptation she might have felt for him.

Yes, she had awoken to find herself resting against him. Okay, she admitted, she'd been cleaving to him. Like a wanton vixen, as she remembered silently describing herself. But it was utterly rude for him to liken her to a flea. On a dog's back, no less! Well, _he_ was a dog. A low-down, dirty dog!

He should have been gentleman enough not to notice. Or, since he had, at least courteous enough not to mention the fact.

But what else should she have expected from him? _Nothing_, she told herself. _Absolutely nothing!_

She was fuming as the pilot announced the landing of the aircraft. Fuming as she and Trunks grabbed their carry-on bags and departed the plane, fuming as they made their way out of the terminal building and to the auto park where Trunks had left his car. Trunks tried to talk to her, but she refused to explain her anger. Just because she'd married the man didn't mean she owed him any justification for what she did or how she felt.

The ride from the airport was made in silence except for the soft music playing on the radio.

As he parked the car in the driveway of Paresu's house, he said, "Look, it's late. We're both tired. And we don't want to upset Ron by letting him see us arguing the first time we're all together."

"Who's arguing?" She opened the car door and stepped out onto the asphalt.

Trunks came around the car. "Let's talk about this, Marron. I know you're angry. But I haven't figured out why yet."

She stopped short and whirled on him. "And that only makes me angrier." She turned to stalk off, but he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Wait a second," he said. "Just give me a minute, okay?"

Plunking her fist on her hip, she cocked her head and stared at him.

"You're mad because I looked at you while you were sleeping?"

The look on her face must have told him he'd hit the bull's-eye.

His mouth tilted in a smile. "Well, you _are_ my wife."

Her gaze turned into a glower. She brushed his hand from her shoulder and stormed toward the house.

Trunks jogged to catch her. "Come on, Marron. I was only kidding."

"And that's what comes naturally to you, isn't it? To joke and laugh and ridicule."

"Please, just wait."

But she wouldn't be stopped.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, skipping along beside her. "I didn't know you'd be offended by my looking at you."

It wasn't the fact that he'd looked that angered her. No, in fat she was kind of... flattered by the idea.

The thought stopped her dead in her tracks and Trunks nearly plowed into her.

She was _not_ flattered by Trunks ogling her in her sleep! Where did that notion come from?

Without taking the time to answer the silly question, or ponder the silly thought of flattery, Marron got back to the original argument. It wasn't the fact that he'd looked that angered her, it was the fact that he'd thrown it up in her face, joked about it and how she'd cuddled up to him. She'd been asleep, for heaven's sake. How could she have known she was using him as human pillow?

However, what had hurt her the most was the fact that he'd compared her to an insect – an icky, bloodsucking insect!

But she had no intention of telling him how she felt _or_ what he'd done. No intention at all of discussing it further. To do so at this point would only make her more vulnerable to his black, vicious humor.

"Look," she told him, "let's just drop the whole issue. We need to collect Ron and get him home into his own bed."

"So you're not angry with me anymore?"

"I said I'd drop it, didn't I?"

One brow rose as he said pointedly,. "You didn't answer my question."

"Trunks!" She actually growled.

"Okay, okay. Let's go get the baby."

Even though it was quite late, Paresu was still awake and waiting for them. Bura's best friend hadn't been so sure that Trunks and Marron flying of to Cactus to get married was the best solution, but she wished them the best of luck and told them to call if they ran into any problems with Ron.

Once they arrived at Braun and Bura's home, Marron accepted Trunks' offer to get up with the baby should he awaken in the night. She knew he'd offered as a way to assuage the animosity she was feeling toward him, but she accepted nonetheless. After the past two days of seesawing emotions and flying back and forth across the country, she could use a good night's sleep. In exchange, he'd asked if she would mind watching Ron during the morning hours so he could get some work done. She'd agreed, knowing that the few phone calls she needed to make to her employers at _Bon Appetit_ could be made in just a few moments while Ron napped.

Having slept soundly through the night, she awoke to the sounds of chirping birds in the tree by her window and the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

She slipped into her white knit robe and tied the sash as she went down the stairs toward the kitchen.

Braun and Bura had chosen a beautiful house. Marron had stayed here for a few days when the baby had been christened. The traditional colonial design had spacious rooms, yet it also had some interesting nooks and crannies. Trunks had told her yesterday that, upon Braun's death, the house had been paid for through an insured mortgage. So, she and Trunks had agreed that they should live in the house together – in separate bedrooms, of course – so that Ron would have as normal surroundings as possible.

Marron entered the big, eat-in kitchen with its terra-cotta tiled floor and tastefully papered walls, opened the cabinet and pulled out a sky blue mug.

After filling the mug with hot, steaming coffee, Marron leaned against the counter and sipped. She cradled the warm ceramic between her palms and looked around the kitchen. Bura had done a wonderful job of making this room inviting. This was Bura's kitchen and she'd never spend another moment in it. She'd never again use the gleaming mixer, the huge microwave, the state-of-the-art coffee grinder...

_I don't want to feel sad today,_ Marron thought. And pushing herself away from the countertop, she went in search of Trunks and Ron.

She found Trunks in Braun's office. He was sitting at the desk, totally immersed in the article he was editing. Again she was taken aback by how handsome he was. The soothing color of his hair gleamed in the sunlight pouring through the window. His broad shoulders –

_Don't do this_, she scolded. But her eyes continued to feast on him. And, shockingly, her heart began to race.

"Good morning," she called softly, knowing that alerting him to her presence was the only way to tame these raging hormones she never knew she had. She needed to make him talk, needed to allow him to make himself look like a jerk, and she could do it just by engaging him in normal conversation.

"Well, hello there," he said. "You look well-rested this morning."

His smile seemed free of inference, almost charming. But Marron was on her guard.

"Is there some reason why I shouldn't?" she asked. "Are you angry that you had to get up with Ron?"

Bewilderment crossed his brow. "I'm not angry. In fact, Ron slept through the night."

"Oh," she said, hearing the disappointment in her voice. Not that the baby had slept soundly, but that Trunks' initial greeting hadn't held any hidden umbrage and she was left looking grumpy.

Trunks must have heard the frustration in her tone because his brows rose and he said, "I got a good night's sleep, too. Does that mean our deal is off?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you going to watch Ron this morning so I can get some work done?"

"Of course I am." A lock of her curly hair had fallen into her eyes and she brushed at it. "Just because you didn't get up with him doesn't mean you wouldn't have, right? So our deal stands as made."

"Good," he said, "because I do my best work in the morning."

She grinned. "And I take a while to warm up to it."

One of his brows rose. "You'll be working?"

"I do have career," she said lightly. "I have an article that needs finishing. And I thought I'd call the magazine to see if they could give me some position I can fill from here."

When he didn't respond immediately, she was impelled to ask, "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Of course not." He laid down his drawing pencil. "So I'll work morning and you'll work afternoons. Is that feasible?"

She nodded. His last question was almost terse. As though he hadn't expected her to continue with the magazine. Realization struck, he'd thought she would quit her job outright to take care of Ron. Was he out of his mind?

But she didn't want to fight with him. He'd agreed to a work schedule, that's all that was important for the time being.

"Well, where is he?" She kept her tone pleasant, hoping to keep the conversation on the right track.

"Still sleeping," he said, his tone still edged with hardness. But his words softened as he continued. "I guess the little guy has been though a lot in the past few days."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Poor thing's going to have a rough time of it."

Trunks nodded solemnly.

"I thought I might take him out today," she said. "If you'll point the way to the park, we'll get out of your hair for a while. Maybe I'll check the pantry and stop off at the grocery store on our way home."

"Sounds good."

"Mama. Mama. _Maaaaaama_."

The monitor on the kitchen counter magnified Ron's voice as clear as day. Marron smiled.

"Sounds like he's awake," she said. ""I'll go bring him down for some breakfast. You go ahead with your work.

She hurried up the stairs and down the hall. The door of the baby's room was ajar and she pushed it open and went inside.

Marron smiled brightly. "Good morning!"

Ron froze in his crib, his wide brown eyes, filling with fear.

I she'd stopped to think, she'd have realized that she should never have approached the crib. But she was so intent on calming the baby's anxiety that she didn't think, she simply acted.

Ron didn't move a muscle until she reached the crib railing. When she held out her hands to him, he began to scream as though she were an evil, ugly troll.

* * *

_Hello there! I went snorkeling last weekend. It was beauuuuutiful. Better than Aruba, said a friend. So I think you'd understand why I wasn't able to update. Right? ^^_

_I think short-pants should update as well since she pmed me, asking when I was going to update XD Good luck with the application, bluetinkerbell! I know how annoying those can be. Thanks for the review, wine and roses. Please keep more of them coming! =D_


	8. Nothing hugs like

Disclaimer: Not mine. **  
**

* * *

**Nothing hugs like...**

* * *

Ron scrambled to the far corner of his bed, even though Marron crooned reassuring words to him.

"Here, here, now." Trunks rushed into the room. "What's all this?"

"Unka," Ron sobbed, huge crocodile rears spilling from his eyes.

Marron stepped away from the crib so Trunks could scoop up Ron. The baby buried his face in his uncle's neck.

The rejection and hurt she felt swelled in her throat until it became a hard, painful not.

"He doesn't like me." She forced this whispered words around the lump. Hot tears burned here eyes.

"Come now," Trunks said, reaching out with his free hand to touch her arm. "It's not that he doesn't _like_ you." His tone was soft and soothing. "He doesn't _know _you."

The rational part of her mind took in Trunks' explanation, even agreed with it, but the emotional part of her brain still felt bruised by Ron's shunning of her.

"We should have thought about this," Trunks said. "Seeing how he was a little shy of you at the courthouse."

Marron felt numb as she nodded.

"Let's just stick together for a few days," he suggested. "I'll put off working until Ron's as comfortable with you as he is with me."

What a nice thing for him to suggest. Warm blood rushed through her veins, bringing back her sense of feeling with tingling clarity. Gratitude welled within her, and she wanted to reach up on her tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek.

But she hesitated as a dark, silent voice whispered inside her. _He's not putting off his work for you, you idiot. He's doing it for the baby._

"Of course," she murmured to herself.

"So you think it's a good idea?" he asked.

"What? Oh, yes," she said. "And I'll put off working for a while, too. It shouldn't take too long, do you think?"

"Nah," Trunks said with a smile. "A couple of days at the most."

Even as she said, "Okay," Marron battled with her mixed feelings about spending the next few days in close proximity to Trunks. She'd thought they would take turns being with little Ron, and now it was necessary that the three of them be thrown together for all activities. The idea made her uncomfortable for some reason, made her feel unsafe.

She wasn't afraid of Trunks; it wasn't that at all. It was just that he threatened her... security. No, that wasn't it either.

Why, then, she wondered, did she balk at the thought of spending time with him?

Before she could ponder the question further, Ron began to make deep, grunting noises. She and Trunks looked at each other in surprise. The baby lifted his head to stare intently into his uncle's eyes. His precious little face turned beet red as he strained, and immediately following, there was a loud, stinky explosion in his diaper.

Trunks looked at her, trying hard to contain his mirth. "I guess it's time for me to change the lad's pants," he said.

A snicker escaped her throat. "You _are_ the favored one," she replied.

Marron rummaged in the kitchen pantry trying to find something to feed Ron for breakfast while Trunks was busy changing the toddler's diaper and dressing him for the day. She smiled as she heard Trunks' voice coming over the baby monitor. He was talking his way thought the diaper change, evidently having forgotten that Marron could eavesdrop on his every word.

"Okay," she heard Trunks say, "the bottom is clean." Then he added, "Ron, let's remember to pick up more baby wipes at the store."

A grin tugged at the corners of Marron's mouth. She went to the desk in the corner of the kitchen and started a grocery list, placing baby wipes at the very top.

"Okay, diapers," he said. "Where are the diapers?"

There was a scrambling sound that had Marron chuckling.

"No, Ron, keep still now. Uncle Trunks is moving as fast as he can. You have to be patient."

"Toy." Ron demanded.

"You want the teddy bear?"

"No." The baby's tone was firm, decisive. "Toy."

With her ear glued to the monitor, Marron leaned against the counter, all thoughts of breakfast pushed from her mind.

"Here," she heard Trunks offer, "how about these keys? They're pretty colors. Red. Blue. Green. Look at the yellow one." Another scrambling sound and then she heard the plastic keys bounce off the changing table. "No, no, Ron. Lay still for Uncle Trunks."

Ron whined.

"Okay, let's go over to the toy chest and you pick out what you want."

The surrender in Trunks' heavy sigh had Marron pressing her fingers against her lips to hold back the laughter that bubbled from within her. She listened as the two of them moved across Ron's bedroom and began digging in the chest full of cars, trucks, plastic balls, airplanes and stuffed animals. Trunks offered each toy to the child and Ron rejected each one.

Marron found herself completely caught up in the entertainment their conversation brought her. She looked forward to the day when she and her nephew could communicate with the same easy manner. She hoped it would not take Ron too long to learn to trust her as he obviously trusted Trunks.

"So you want the duck," she finally heard Trunks say. "Why didn't you say so?"

"Duck," Ron proclaimed triumphantly.

The deep rich sound of Trunks' chuckle sent shivers coursing along Marron's spine. He had such a nice voice. And he was so calm and patient when dealing with Ron. Maybe her brother, Braun, and his wife knew exactly what they were doing when they'd named Trunks as Ron's guardian.

Her eyes grew wide, the thought startling her so that she took a staggering step away from the counter – away from the monitor where Trunks' voice floated over the air.

She could be calm and patient with the baby. She knew she could. She only needed to be given the chance. She only needed to gain Ron's trust.

Suddenly, she relived the rejection she'd felt only minutes before when her nephew had cried as she'd entered his room. But luckily she was able to stave off the emotional onslaught and view the scene in her mind from a more analytical point of view.

Trunks had been right. Ron had been frightened of her, not because he disliked her, but because he didn't know her well enough to feel safe and secure in her presence.

Well, Marron thought, she'd put the baby at ease. She'd let him know that she could be counted on. She'd learn to care for him so that he'd know he could depend on her...

Her intake of breath was sharp as a realization struck her with full force- she _wanted_ Ron to depend on her. She'd never wanted anything so much in her life. The feeling was so strange to her. All her life she'd run from one end of the world to another in an effort to keep herself free and independent. She'd never wanted to have anyone rely on her. Years of seeing her mother slave for her severely ill father had implanted in her a fierce desire for freedom and independence.

But why the change of heart now? She wondered.

"Oh, Ron!"

Trunks' loud exclamation jerked Marron from her thoughts. The baby began to cry and she wondered if she should run upstairs to see what happened or if she could help.

"it's okay," she heard Trunks soothe. "Don't cry. Let's just get a diaper on and we'll go down to breakfast. Aunt Marron is fixing you something good to eat. Let's worry about getting you dressed later."

At the mention of food, Marron's gaze swept across the immaculate kitchen, the clear table, the spotless counters. She hadn't even started to prepare anything for Ron to eat. Scurrying to the pantry, she pulled out a round box of oatmeal and began reading the instructions for preparation. She found a small bowl and a measuring cup. She bolted for the refrigerator and slowed down long enough to carefully pour out the right amount of milk. The microwave oven buttons beeped as she programmed in the proper time.

She searched the cabinets and found a bright blue plastic cup with a tight-fitting lid that Ron could sip from and placed it on the tray of the high chair along with a spoon.

"Put your leg down, Ron," Trunks said. "Here, here. No, lay still. Quit squirming now."

His light tone in his voice was forced now and Marron could actually feel his frustration. She would like to have enjoyed the hard time he was having diapering the baby, but she was in too much of a rush to stir the oatmeal and then fill the cup with chilled apple juice she'd found in the door of the fridge.

Marron was sprinkling brown sugar on the steaming oatmeal when she heard Trunks' footsteps coming down the stairs. She looked up when they entered the room.

"Hi, Ron." She kept her greeting bright and friendly. Her quick glance at Trunks had her eyes widening with curiosity. "What happened to you?" she asked.

He looked a little flustered, but there was mirth in his blue gaze as he explained. "Ron had a little accident." Trunks tugged his wet pant leg away from his body. "But I did learn a valuable lesson..."

Marron's mouth quirked up in a grin. "Don't let Ron run around without a diaper on?"

Trunks nodded solemnly and then joined in with her light laughter.

The sound emanating from deep in his chest was rich and vibrant and did strange things to the pit of her stomach. Her smile slowly faded and she pressed her hand to her abdomen, but before she could rationalize her body's reaction Trunks' glee, Ron began to chuckle, too.

Marron's attention suddenly riveted to the baby's face. She felt so relived that he was happy.

"Oh," Trunks commented to Ron, "so you think what you did to Uncle Trunks was funny, huh?"

"Fun." The baby tried out the word, and he laughed again.

Trunks smiled at Marron, and again she felt her insides grow all quivery. She fought to keep her brow from wrinkling as she tried to figure out what was wrong with her. Was she coming down with the flu?

"I need to get a shower and change," Trunks told her. "But it'll have to wait until after we feed Ron."

The queer sensation she'd experience when Trunks smiled at her was pushed aside by a new anxiety: she worried whether or not the baby would like the breakfast she'd prepared. It wasn't until that very moment that she realized she had no idea what fourteen-month-old toddlers ate in the morning. Would he like oatmeal? Did he have enough teeth to chew it? Should she have prepared some kind of baby cereal instead? Or mashed up some fruit? Could Ron digest new fruit?

Marron had realized all along she didn't know the first thing about rearing children, but the questions that flew through her brain, fast and furious, boggled the mind.

Trunks held Ron in one arm and moved into the center of the kitchen. The baby's happy countenance faded and apprehension filled his big, blue-green eyes with sudden fear as he glanced at Marron. It was almost as if he'd forgotten about his frightening experience upon awakening and was just now remembering.

His little chin quivered and the corners of his mouth tipped down. The sight filled Marron with a compassion the likes of which she'd never before felt. She wanted to wipe away all his anxiety, but that was a pretty difficult task when it was _her_ that he feared.

"Oh, Ron," she crooned, "it's okay. Please don't be afraid of me."

She said the words but she didn't move, didn't dare take a step toward the child. She'd already seen the results of approaching him when he felt scared.

"Now, Ron," Trunks said. "This is Aunt Marron."

Ron slipped his thumb into his mouth, looked from Trunks to Marron and back to Trunks. The panic in his gaze broke Marron's heart and made her want to reach out to him. But she didn't. She simply waited for him to respond.

He twisted in Trunks' arms, turning his back to her and holding himself in that stiff position. His reaction couldn't have been more clear – he didn't want to deal with the situation. He didn't want to face what was happening, and to his child's mind he'd decided that ignoring Marron would make her go away.

But he had to face it. He had to deal with it. Because Marron wasn't going away.

Trunks looked at Marron and she read questions in his troubled, blue eyes. _So what do we do now?_ He silently asked. _How do we fix this?_

She shrugged, feeling helpless and empty inside.

It was Trunks who took action. He approached Marron with Ron still in his arms, and he smoothed his strong tanned hand up and down the toddler's back as he said, "Ron, Aunt Marron is a nice lady. She fixed your breakfast. She cooked oatmeal just for you."

Trunks was standing so close now that she could have reached out and touched his arm. Ron didn't move to acknowledge her in any way.

Trunks moved closer.

"Turn around, Ron." His tone was gentle but firm.

Marron felt her stomach grow jittery. She didn't want to force her nephew to accept her, but she knew it was in his best interest that he understand the circumstances as much as he could and come to terms with his present situation.

She was part of his present situation. The sooner he learned that, the better.

"Ron, turn around," Trunks repeated. "I want you to meet your Aunt Marron."

Ever so slowly, Ron pivoted first his head, then his whole body, until he was facing Marron. Again the anxiety in his face, in his gaze, nearly killed her.

"It's okay, honey," she said softly. "I know you're afraid. But you don't need to be. I love you."

His fear seemed to lessen a tiny degree.

She reached out and touched his cheek.

Ron's eyes glistened with sudden tears.

Marron lowered her hand to her side.

"Now, look," Trunks said, his unwavering voice was balanced with just the fright softness to get the baby's attention. "Aunt Marron is going to be here with us, Ron."

Then Trunks did the most astounding thing – he draped his free arm over her shoulder.

"I like Aunt Marron," he proclaimed. "And I know you're going to like her too."

* * *

_^^; Sorry about being massively late. Life caught up with me again. I'll definitely update next weekend. _

_I went clubbing last night but somehow, something was off. I don't know what. Maybe I've just been moody lately. Sometimes it's easier to escape reality in anime marathons or continuous book reading =/_


	9. Steps to a healthier you

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

**Steps to a healthier you**

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Marron felt blanketed in the male warmth emanating from Trunks. She could feel the heat of his arm penetrating the thin cotton fabric of her housecoat. There was a tiny, sensitive pulsing right at the back of her neck where his bare skin touched hers. It felt hot enough to make her want to flinch, but she fought the urge to do so.

A nice, woodsy aroma wafted around her and she inhaled deeply. Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest. She was enjoying this closeness too much, and just as she was about to chastise herself, she smelled something else... a light and fresh fragrance. Baby powder. She smelled baby powder.

Darting a quick glance at Trunks' hand where it dangled from her shoulder, she saw a pale white film of powder on his hand.

Mixing the dark, woodsy scent of cologne with baby powder didn't bring to mind the idea of a sensual aroma, and Marron was totally surprised when she found the smell quite sexy. So sexy, in fact, that her mouth pulled back in a grin she wasn't able to suppress.

Helplessly she looked up into Trunks' face and felt an immense relief to find his attention focused on Ron. She turned her gaze on little Ron and saw that he was studying her. She let her grin broaden into a full-fledged smile. It mattered not one whit that her smile had been caused by her reaction to Trunks' nearness – it only mattered that a smile was what her nephew needed to see from her right now.

The corners of Ron's mouth tipped up timidly.

"There it is," Trunks said. "Let's see that smile grow bigger and bigger."

His arm muscle contracted, pulling her even closer to him, and before she knew what was happening, she felt Trunks, firm, warm lips on her lower jaw. The kiss was over before she could blink, but her reaction to it lingered. Heat suffused her face and her whole body broke out in feverish, prickly tremors.

Marron swallowed and tried to keep the smile from sliding from her lips. She reached around behind her and grasped the edge of the counter for support.

"Marron is my friend," Trunks told Ron. "Marron is your friend too."

_He's lying. _The thought soared through her head like a runaway asteroid.

She knew he was telling bald-faced lies., He really didn't think she was nice. He really didn't think of her as friend. He was only trying to win Ron's trust. But the weight of his arm slung across her shoulder, the sound of his voice when he complimented her,. The feel of his heartbeat where her skin was pressed against his chest were making her insides jitter with an undercurrent of...

No words would come to describe what she was feeling by being so near to Trunks, by feeling the warmth of him, by hearing his voice.

"Do you want to give Aunt Marron a kiss?" Trunks asked Ron.

The toddler's smile faded.

Marron shrugged out of Trunks' embrace. "I appreciate what you're doing, Trunks," she said. "But don't push it. He'll come around." To Ron, she asked, "How about some breakfast?"

Ron looked into his uncle's eyes. "Eat," he demanded.

Trunks and Marron worked together to loosen the tray from the high chair. By the time the two of them had secured Ron in the seat, the child was losing all patience.

"Juice, juice." He pointed to the blue plastic sippy cup.

Marron set the cup on the tray and Ron promptly picked it up and took a long drink.

She stood near the high chair, the bowl of oatmeal in hand.

"Can he feed himself?" she asked Trunks.

He blinked several times. Finally he admitted, "I have no idea."

"Won. Eat." The toddler slapped his hand on the wide expanse of the white plastic tray and the spoon clattered loudly.

Marron shrugged. "We'll just have to find out. Here goes nothing."

She set down the bowl in front of him.

Ron picked up the spoon and awkwardly dipped into the oatmeal. Marron couldn't help but chuckle as her nephew tried to fit the rounded edge of the spoon into his mouth. Oatmeal smeared over his upper lip and fell with a plop back into the bowl.

Meaning to help him guide the second scoopful into his mouth, Marron took his little hand in hers.

"Me do," Ron said. "Me do."

"Okay," Marron said softly. But he did allow her to help him with one bite before he shook off her grasp.

He played happily in the oatmeal, getting more of the sticky cereal on his face than in his stomach. And about every third spoonful, Marron gave him a little help.

She noticed Trunks' intoxicating scent before she heard his voice as he bent close to her ear to whisper, "You're doing great. If I can slip off without him noticing, I'm going to go shower and change."

Marron nodded.

It pleased her to see that she and her nephew had formed what she hoped could be called the beginnings of a relationship, albeit fragile. And she knew very well that Ron's hunger was the main reason he'd lost himself in the task of eating to the point that he'd forgotten to be afraid of her.

She realized that Trunks had left her alone, ad she made an extra-special effort to engage Ron's attention so he wouldn't notice his uncle was gone.

Dropping the spoon onto the tray of the high chair, Ron picked up the blue cup in both his sticky hands and took a swig of apple juice.

Marron gazed at her nephew's headful of curly red hair. Unable to help herself, she reached out and fingered on silky, tightly curled lock. With his fiery hair and big blue-green eyes, Ron looked so much like his father.

Braun had hated his unruly curls. Marron had been so much younger than her brother. She'd still been in elementary school when he'd started high school but she remembered how teenage girls had called the house every night for her brother. Marron's mother used to tease him that tall those girls were in love with his curly red hair.

A memory! She remembered how her brother had felt about his curly hair. A wave of elation washed over her. Marron closed here eyes and envisioned how Braun had flushed deep red when his mother had joked with him about his girlfriends.

If there was one memory in her brain that could help fill that deep, wide void inside her, there must be others. There must be!

But as Marron absently helped little Ron spoon a scoop of oatmeal into his mouth, she couldn't come up with anything. The sound of her brother's voice. His favorite color. What foods he liked to eat. She couldn't even remember what his room had looked like.

Suddenly the black hole inside her seemed as empty as ever. She sighed and fought to focus on the here and now, rather than the past. Too late, she noticed that because she hadn't been talking to Ron, the child had lost interest in his breakfast and was gazing around the kitchen.

"Here, Ron," she said, hoping to regain his attention and keep him from noticing Trunks' absence. "Would you like another bite? It's good."

She loaded the spoon with oatmeal and waved it in front of Ron's eyes. When that ploy failed to work, she mad amateur airplane noises by pursing her lips and exhaling through them.

Marron expected her nephew to laugh, oat ay least smile at her. But Ron did neither of those things. A moment of curiosity crossed his features, however, the emotion passed quickly and he simply stared at her as though she'd grown another nose. Then, he craned his neck to look behind him.

"Look, Ron," she said, her tone louder. "Look at Aunt Marron."

"Unka?"

The fear in his little voice ripped through her like a jagged-edged knife. Yet she could hear the shower still running upstairs and knew that Trunks couldn't rescue her from the situation.

"It's okay." She tried to keep her tone as calm as possible, but the panic that rose in her throat made her efforts practically hopeless. "Please don't be afraid of me."

She reached out and touched Ron on the arm.

The high-pitched scream that lacerated the air nearly pierced her eardrum.

"Ron, Ron," she crooned. "Honey, please..."

_Please what?_ she wondered. He was afraid of her. There was nothing she could say that would calm him. Nothing whatsoever.

Huge tears coursed down his cheeks as he sobbed. He twisted and pushed and strained to et out of the high chair, chanting, "Unka, Unka," in a heart-wrenching tone that made Marron's throat swell with emotion.

Her sight blurred as painful tears prickled her eyelids. She had to get this child to Trunks, shower or no shower. She couldn't allow Ron to feel afraid one moment longer than he had to.

Tears rolled down her face as she fumbled to unlock the tray from the chair.

"We'll go find Uncle Trunks," she told him. "We'll go right now."

Picking the toddler up, she had to turn her head as a fresh wave of shrieks bombarded her. She rushed out of the kitchen and down the hallway toward the steps that led upstairs, constantly murmuring reassurances she knew Ron wasn't interested in hearing.

She felt his moist, sticky palm press against her jaw as he attempted to escape her. But the oatmeal that coated his skin only caused his little hand to slide right off her face. The gooey residue he left behind felt cold and clammy, but Marron didn't have enough of her wits about her to wipe it off.

Ron kicked his feet and she grasped his thighs in a tight embrace, supporting his back with her free hand as she climbed up the long staircase.

Five more steps, she thought, aiming for the closed bathroom door as though it were an entrance to heaven itself. Four more steps Three more. Two. One.

She pounded on the door, sobbing now almost as hard as the baby was.

"Let us in, Trunks!" she cried. "Ron need you!"

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Blood rushed through her ears like waves crashing on a storm-tossed beach. Ron's screams hadn't subsided one decibel and his little body trembled.

The water had stopped running and she banged on the door again.

"Trunks!"

"One second," he called. "What happened? Is he hurt?"

Trunks opened the door and Ron launched himself at his uncle.

"Whoa there, partner," Trunks said. "What's all this? He looks okay." He turned his questioning gaze on Marron. "With all the shouting and tears, I expected to at least see a little blood on the boy."

"It's my fault." Marron could hardly speak, her throat was so constricted with emotion. "I got all wrapped up in thinking about how much Ron looks like Braun, and I should have been keeping the baby busy so he wouldn't notice that you'd left the two of us alone-" she took a hiccupy breath "- he looked around for you and I couldn't get him to eat any more and I even tried to make an airplane but... but..."

"Here, here," Trunks said softly.

He pulled her to him with his free arm. Ron nestled against one of Trunks' shoulder and Marron melted into the other. He felt so good, so warm, so secure. Fresh tears gathered in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. She felt them, cool against her skin in the heated air of the small room.

She listened to Trunks' voice, soothing and calm, as he consoled Ron. As he spoke to the baby, his hand trailed absently up and down her arm. He was sturdy and strong as she leaned against him, and she gratefully drain in every bit of comfort he gave.

The tension in the atmosphere diminished by degree until it was nearly imperceptible. Marron inhaled deeply and then exhaled the remaining anxiety from her body.

Finally she heard him say, "What am I going to do with you two?"

She heard a sucking sound and knew that Ron had found at least some of his security in his thumb. She'd found a great deal of consolation in the clean, soapy aroma wafting all around her.

"We're going to work this out."

Marron almost smiled as she realized Trunks' promise was as much for her as it was for little Ron.

"But I gotta tell you, " he went on, "it's really not fair to actually pull me out of the shower dripping wet."

His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, and Marron enjoyed the feel of it against the flat of her palm.

Her eyes flew open.

Yes, her hand was resting against his bare chest all right, glistening with water droplets. She stepped away from him so fast that her heel struck the wicker wastebasket in the corner. It wobbled and then fell over on its side.

"I'm sorry," she said, unable to take her eyes off his broad chest, his muscular shoulders, still deliciously damp.

Ever so slowly, she raised her eyes. His lavender hair was tousled and soaking wet, fat drops of water from the shower ran down his face and neck. Her helpless gaze followed one particular water droplet on its slow, arduous trek down his chest, over a powerful pec, up and down definitely wavy abdominal muscles. She watched it narrowly escape the small trap his navel created.

Absently her tongue traveled slowly across her lips as the oval pearl gathered speed and then was soaked up by the fluffy terry-cloth towel secured around him. She blinked and then stared at the spot where the moisture had disappeared. Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, she brazenly appraised the slice of muscular thigh disclosed by the too-small towel.

Marron swallowed, shocked by the rate at which her heart was pounding. She didn't even like this man. In fact, he had a way of irritating her, getting under her skin, as no one else could. Why was she standing here gawking at him? Why was she experiencing these strange... desires?

No, she told herself. She did _not_ desire Trunks. No way, no how.

She dragged her gaze back to his face. The smirk smeared across his face made her want to crawl into a corner somewhere and hide.

_Here it comes_, she thought. He's going to open his mouth and say something humiliating.

Trunks didn't disappoint her.

"You now, I think there's an old wives' tale that says if you stare at the opposite sex with that look in your eye-" his grin widened "-you just might go blind."

* * *

_Happy Easter!_

_Thank you bluetinkerbell for reviewing. I dunno why but when I was typing your name I came up with a blank and thought of blueberry cheesecake instead XD_

_I remembered what fic I wanted short-pants to update. Safe._


	10. Lemons are sour

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

**Lemons are sour**

* * *

_That __look __in __your __eye__…_ his words rang through her head like the irritating peal of a large, metallic bell. The fact that Trunks had witnessed her ogling him mortified her. And even worse, he'd recognized the… hunger in her gaze caused by the sight of his nearly bare body. Dear Kami, she'd never live this down.

The wonderful, secure feeling Trunks had given her only seconds before melted under the heat of anger and embarrassment that roiled in her chest. Her eyes narrowed. Her teeth clenched tightly. Her shoulders stiffened until they became painful. She wanted to smack that smirk right off his face.

How could she ever, _ever_ have found this man appealing?

She glared at him.

"What?" he said.

Her eyes narrowed ever more. Her jaw jutted out in disgust.

Trunks laughed. "I was only joking; I was trying to lighten the mood."

_Lighten __the __mood, __indeed,_ she thought. His idea of lightening the mood was to humiliate the first person who came into view. He'd done it before, as she had been most personally aware.

She pressed her lips together, refusing to spit out the perfect rejoinder that would reveal just what she thought of him. She wanted desperately to put him in his place, but tension and fighting would only cause more anxiety in little Ron.

"Come on, Marron," Trunks said, light-hearted laughter still tinting his voice.

Ron chose that moment to chuckle merrily.

Her eyes darted to her nephew's face. The child still had tears in his eyes as a result of spending a few lousy minutes alone with her, but he was happy as he could be here in his uncle's arms.

Focusing her attention on Trunks' glittering blue eyes, Marron felt her irritation bubbling up from inside her, nearly erupting in a rumble deep in her throat.

She turned and stormed out of the bathroom. The urge to slam her bedroom door was great, but she went to war with it and won.

Kami, but that man made her angry! She was shaking, inside and out.

Marron tore off her robe and tossed it across the unmade bed. She unbuttoned the soft, baggy shirt she used as a nightgown and jerked it from her shoulders.

"Lighten the mood," she muttered under her breath.

As she tugged on a pair of jeans, a quiet voice inside her head whispered, _Well, __Trunks __did __calm __the __baby __down. __And __not __only __that, __he __made __Ron __laugh._

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled and stuffed her head through the opening of the long, loose-fitting green knit top. She pulled on her socks, looked at her flat boots and thought about tromping down the hall.

Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, she felt totally exhausted.

The shower in the hallway bathroom turned back on, and Marron guessed that Trunks had taken Ron in with him. That was good because Ron needed cleaning up after all the oatmeal he'd plastered over his face and hands.

She sighed heavily and didn't seem to have the energy to get up off the bed. It was no wonder she was stressed out. She'd had not one, but two unnerving experiences with the baby this morning. Those alone would have been enough to dishearten anyone, but her emotions had continued the roller-coaster ride when she'd enjoyed a few happy moments feeding the baby, only to feel saddened wit memories – or lack of them – of her brother, and then the blood pressure had careered at the sight of Trunks' exquisitely naked chest. All of these things taken together were enough to fell a bull.

Marron sighed again. Maybe she'd overreacted to Trunks' comment. Maybe her emotions had been in such turmoil that she'd been a tad irrational.

_Nah,_ she told herself. _No __way._

Even if his motives were pure and he'd only been trying to "lighten the mood," then he shouldn't have made it at her expense. He shouldn't have made her the butt of his joke.

Well, what else could she have expected from him? He'd done the exact same thing to her before at Ron's christening. He'd humiliated her in front of an entire roomful of people.

She'd simply have to protect herself from him in the future, that was all. She'd have to work hard to keep from doing anything he could taunt her about. The first thing she'd have to work on, she knew, was keeping her hormones in check.

Resting her chin in her palm, her elbow on her knee, Marron felt certain she could do just that. Anytime she felt the urge to admire Trunks' physique, she'd use her best defence – she'd just talk to him. He would be sure to snuff out any desire she might feel.

She felt better now that she had armed herself with a plan.

After running a brush through her short curls, Marron went downstairs, straight to the powder room off the main hallway. She'd rinsed the dried flakes of oatmeal and milk off her skin that Ron had smeared across her jaw, then went to the kitchen to clean up Ron's high-chair tray. That task accomplished, she poured herself a second cup of coffee and stepped out the back door into the bright sunshine.

The smell of spring was in the air. Early-blooming hyacinths and crocuses gave the air a heady fragrance. Tender leaf buds were blooming on the trees. The green of the leaves and the blazing purple, pinks and blues of the flowering bulbs were uplifting up Marron's spirit. She sat on the back porch, sipped her steaming coffee and let her soul soak up the goodness of the fresh air and sunshine.

"Ma-won."

The sound of Ron's high-pitched voice drew her gaze from the clouds trailing lazily across the sky. She turned and craned her neck up toward the back screen door but didn't see her nephew or Trunks.

"Say it again," Trunks said. "Louder."

"_Ma-won!_"

Marron's breath caught in her throat. Ron was saying her name. At least, he was trying to say it. She realized that the sound of the letter _r_must be hard for a baby to make.

"Here," she called, feeling overwhelmed with happiness.

She stood up and pulled open the back door. And there they stood. Trunks and Ron. Both of them with still-damp hair from their shower.

As she looked at her nephew, love filled her face with a wondrous smile.

"There's Aunt Marron." Trunks' voice was soft and calm.

Ron reached out and patted her cheek. "Ma-won," he said slowly. His dimples were defined when he smiled at her.

Marron thought her heart would burst with adoration.

"And where's Uncle Trunks?" Trunks asked.

The baby focused his attention on Trunks.

"Unka," Ron said, touching his uncle on the chin.

"And Ron?" This time it was Trunks' turn to grin as he playfully looked around him. "Where's Ron?"

"Won." Ron pointed to his own chest. "Won."

"Good boy," Marron said. "And you sure look spiffy in those green overalls. You match Aunt Marron. I'm wearing green too."

She pointed to her green shirt and then to his corduroy overalls.

Ron's eyes lit up. He struggled in his uncle's arms and Trunks set him down on the floor. Ron toddled away from them, out through the kitchen and into the family room with the two adults following close behind him.

"He walks so well," Marron remarked.

"I remember," Trunks told her, "he was taking steps on his own at his birthday party two months ago." He lowered his voice to say, "Bura and Braun were so proud of him."

They watched Ron dig into a huge wooden basket filled with toys.

A dark, dense cloud of regret descended on Marron. She wished so badly that she'd been around to attend Ron's first birthday party. She could easily imagine Bura lighting the candle on the brightly-colored cake, her brother with a video camera running as he taped it all, children laughing, singing. The dark despondency threatened to become overwhelming.

Marron pushed the emotion away from her as though it were a tangible thing. She'd had enough remorse, anger and rejection for one day. She refused to feel bad anymore.

"Ball," Ron declared, offering her the round, hollow toy.

She knelt down to be at his eye level.

"Geen ball."

"That's right." Marron couldn't help the surprise from her voice. "You're such a smart boy."

"Geen," Ron repeated. Then he nodded with deep seriousness.

Marron looked up at Trunks. "He's smart." She straightened her knees and returned to a stand.

"Mine!"

She gazed down at the toddler and saw from the panic in his eyes that he thought she meant to keep his ball.

"Here you go," she said, handing it back to him. "He's really smart," she repeated to Trunks as Ron went back to the basket.

Trunks nodded. "Bura spent a lot of time with him."

"She didn't work?" Marron hated to ask, feeling embarrassed that she didn't know that simple piece of information about her sister-in-law.

"Bura worked at the mall part-time selling cosmetics before Ron was born," he told her. "But she wanted to be with Ron."

Marron nodded.

"Okay-" Trunks clapped his hands to get Ron's attention away from the toys "who wants to go to the store? Does Ron want to go buy-buys?

The baby laughed and ran to Trunks with his arms stretched out.

"I'd better grab a sweater for him," Marron suggested.

"And some diapers," Trunks said. "I think I saw a diaper bag sitting beside his changing table. Bring plenty of diapers. I used all the baby wipes."

"I put them on the grocery list," she told him. "You might want to put a few raisins in a container just in case he gets hungry."

"Good idea." He smiled. "See, we can do this."

As she ran up the steps toward the baby's room, she reminded herself yet again that she didn't even like this man. Why then, she wondered, was she reacting to him in such a purely physical manner? It seemed that all he had to do was look at her and her stomach churned with giddiness, her heart began to palpitate. She found the idea not only confusing but extremely irritating.

She snatched up the diaper bag and began loading it with diapers, baby powder and several little toys, trying hard to vanquish the image of Trunks' smile from her mind.

* * *

Ron enjoyed the car ride to the local supermarket. He pointed to first one thing then another.

"Truck," he would say, or "cat," or "tree," or "sign," or "_big_ truck."

Marron was impressed with his vocabulary.

"Bura must have spent a lot of time with him," she observed in a whisper.

Trunks only nodded.

She faced the front and forced herself to look out the window. Several times she'd caught herself staring at Trunks' profile. And even though she looked out at the town, she could still picture how his lavender hair touched the collar of his shirt. His nose was straight and just the right length for his strong-jawed face. His bottom lip was nice and full, and she wondered how it would feel on her own mouth…

"Stop," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," she quickly answered Trunks' query.

"But-"

"Dog," Ron said.

"Where?" she asked, turning to see where Ron was pointing and desperate to put Trunks off.

She saw a woman walking with a leashed dog along the sidewalk. "That's right, Ron," Marron said. "That's a dog."

The baby made barking noises that had her chuckling.

Trunks steered the car into the large parking lot and killed the engine. "Here we are," he announced.

Ron gleefully clapped his hands.

They sat in the baby in the seat of the metal cart, and with Trunks pushing, they entered the store.

Marron found out very quickly that Trunks was somewhat of a celebrity in the small town. It seemed the three of them could barely move ahead three steps before someone stopped them to speak to Trunks.

Some of his fans agreed with the things he'd said in his column, and Marron had to suffer through seeing Trunks get al puffed up about something he wrote. But others disagreed with his opinions and they weren't afraid to let him know how they felt. Marron actually enjoyed listening to these exchanges.

Marron didn't make it a habit to read Trunks' syndicated column. In fact, she avoided it like the plague. She always disagreed with his opinion and reading his thoughts invariably made her angry, so she simply didn't.

One gentleman congratulated Trunks.

After they were far enough so the man wouldn't overhear her, she asked, "What Did you win some kind of award for your writing?"

"Nah," Trunks said, shrugging off her question.

And before she could inquire further, Ron became all excited.

"Candy," he shrieked. "Candy." Ron strained toward the gleaming, colorful bags hanging from hooks on the shelf.

"I don't know…" Marron looked at Trunks.

"Aww, what can it hurt?" Trunks said. "A little candy never hurt anybody."

"But don't you think we should buy him fresh fruit to snack on?" She lifted one hand. "Or crackers even? Something more nourishing than candy."

Trunks grinned. "We'll buy fruit too," he said, tugging a long row of multicolored lollipops from a hanger. He placed them in the car and Ron whimpered for one.

"Okay, big guy," Trunks said, and he proceeded to tear a lollipop from the row and hand it to Ron.

"But we haven't paid for that yet," Marron said.

"Look around," Trunks told her. "All the mothers are doing it. I'm sure the store manager won't mind if it's going to keep Ron quiet."

She looked around her dubiously, but, sure enough, many of the mothers had opened boxes of oat cereal, raisins, cookies or candy. Marron saw one young child with a graham cracker in one fist and a piece of banana in the other.

"Okay," Marron finally relented, but she saw that her nephew had already been sucking on a grape lollipop long enough for him to dribble purple saliva on the bib of his overalls.

As they travelled the aisles they discovered what each of them liked to eat. Trunks touted himself as an amateur gourmet chef.

"That's good", Marron remarked, "because I can barely boil water."

She told him that her job writing articles for a food magazine made it important for her to eat out. A lot.

"Doesn't that get old after a while?" he asked.

"It sure does. There are times when I wish I'd never see another restaurant."

"Well," Trunks said, "we'll fix you some good home cookin' while we're here." He cast her a sidelong glance. "You might even want to spend some time in the kitchen learning from the pro."

"Maybe," she muttered, but she seriously doubted it. The farther she stayed from Trunks, the better.

When they reached the produce aisle, Marron scanned the shelf of bananas for a bunch that was nice and ripe. Ron just might like to have some sliced up in his oatmeal tomorrow morning. She reached up high and picked six big yellow ones. When she turned to put them in the car, she saw that Trunks had moved about 5 meters from her.

She froze, her heart in her throat. Ron was standing up in the seat and Trunks was preoccupied with choosing oranges. The baby wobbled, righted himself and then reached out toward the perfectly shaped symmetrical hill of bright yellow lemons in front of him.

_Dear Kami, please don't let him fall._

"Trunks!" she called, "the baby."

At least a dozen people turned to stare. Trunks' eyes widened in horror and he grabbed Ron's outstretched arm. Marron ran to help.

Trunks plunked Ron onto his butt in the seat, not noticing that the baby had come away with a fat lemon – from the bottom of the pile. Marron saw three pieces of fruit tumble to the floor where they rolled in crazy circles. She threw herself across the entire display. With her arms spread wide, she pressed her chest and stomach against the lemons, hoping to keep as many of them as possible from falling off the display.

With her cheek snug against one huge lemon, Marron moved her eyes and saw Trunks settling Ron into the seat of the cart.

"Trunks," she said, but with the lemon poking into her jaw it was impossible for her to speak loud enough to get his attention.

"Trunks," she tried again. This time he lifted his head and looked down at where she was sprawled across the display of lemons.

"Gee, Marron," he said. "You really shouldn't hoard all the citrus fruit for yourself."

Marron made to rise from her precarious position – she wanted so badly to knock a knot right on his head – but she felt quite a few of the lemons slide down the yellow tower so she remained with her body plastered against the fruit.

"I see a woman right over there," he quipped, "who looks like she wants to make a big pitcher of lemonade."

The sound of Trunks' chuckle grated in her ears.

If she ever got loose of this fruit, she'd kill him.

"Help me, you idiot."

"Oh, here comes someone," he whispered close to her ear. "She looks like she wants to bake a lemon meringue pie. You'd better give over a few lemons." He straightened up. "Come on, just a few."

"So help me,Trunks, when I get up from here, I'm going to-"

"Is there a problem here, folks?"

The young man who asked the question stood directly behind her, so she couldn't see him. But she was so relieved that help had arrived. It was obvious she wasn't going to get any from Trunks.

"Yes," Trunks told him boldly, "the problem is this lady. She won't let me have any lemons."

Marron heard the laughter then realized that several people had gathered to watch the show. She felt her face flame red-hot and her scalp prickled with perspiration. Trunks was making a spectacle of her. And to think, she'd only dived on the display of fruit so he wouldn't have lemons bouncing all around his feet.

"Let me try to help you."

The young man's voice was like manna from heaven. He slipped his hand between her cheek and the fruit. She lifted her head while he steadied the loose lemons. As the man did the same thing to her arm, she realized that Trunks worked on getting her other arm free.

Before too many more embarrassing moments passed Marron stood and gave a sigh of relief. The six or so customers who had stopped to watch applauded her release. Her head dipped as she tried to hide her disgrace.

But then she realized that several of them murmured, "Good job."

"Yeah," the man said. "Thanks for saving my display."

These people weren't making fun of her, she realized. They were praising her. She smiled at them. Then she glared at Trunks. He might have wanted to humiliate her, but he'd failed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of yellow. Her gaze darted to Ron just in time to see him raise a big lemon to his mouth and bite down.

Her lips puckered and her mouth watered just seeing the sour look on the child's face. Ron blinked several times and then handed the lemon over to her.

"Bad," he said. Then he wiped his tongue off with his fingers.

"Here," she said. "Lick your lollipop."

She guided the grape flavoured pop into his mouth and his smile returned.

"Take this," she ordered, plunking the mangled lemon into Trunks' palm. And without looking back, she started off toward the checkout counter.

Trunks turned to the produce worker, a question in his eyes.

"Sorry, sir," the man said. "You'll have to buy that."

* * *

_So, um, I'm back? I'd blame the fact that I've logged nearly 200,000 kms flying all over the place for my inactivity. And that I've changed continents several times - for work and play._

_What spurred me to update at this time? Well, this morning I had the most interesting dream… I was calling my superhot boyfriend (guess who) but his phone was out of reach. So I tried calling my superhot boyfriend's equally hot best friend (guess who too) who treats me like a kid sister. The emergency? I was outside my apartment and I could see that it was being broken into despite the special bank vault-like door installed by super hot boyfriend._

_But I was woken up o.o By the maid who wanted to clean my room O.O So I guess my brain interpreted the sound of keys to my apartment being broken into _ I wanted to finish that dream! *bashes head on pillow*_

_I just realized that several sentences from this chapter could be interpreted in lemony ways LOL_


	11. Insert here

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

**Insert here**

* * *

Trunks stood in the doorway of Ron's bedroom and gazed at Marron rocking the baby. After Marron had told him exactly what she thought of him in the parking lot of the supermarket, things had gone downhill quickly. She refused to speak to him all the way home. They'd even put away the groceries in silence.

He hadn't meant to embarrass her by joshing in the produce department. He'd thought his wisecracking would pull the attention from her and place it onto himself. But Marron had adamantly believed he'd been trying to make her a laughingstock.

When she refused to listen to reason, he had nudged her a little with one or two witty remarks. He probably shouldn't have, but he'd loved to see her dark eyes come alive with all that spit and vinegar. Surprisingly he'd found her anger very tantalizing.

Their argument would probably still be going on if it hadn't been for Ron turning cranky. Soon after they'd returned home from the store, the baby began to whine. He couldn't seem to get comfortable enough to take even a short nap in the afternoon. However, Ron did seem to get some relief when Marron rocked him - as long as Trunks remained nearby. Both Trunks and Marron had come to the conclusion that Ron found security in her hugs because her body was more like Bura's that Trunks' was. So, Marron had rocked him for over an hour, and he'd slept fitfully for only a few minutes.

When he awoke, Trunks and Marron had taken him to the park, hoping that the fresh air would revive his spirits. The trip had been a disaster.

They had returned home, tried, to no avail, to get Ron to eat some supper, and here they were, hours past the baby's bedtime, still rocking, still soothing him with gentle words.

As Trunks watched Marron cuddle Ron, he thought that one good thing had come of the baby's cranky spell – Marron looked too darned tired to be angry at him any longer. He thought it ironic that Ron cleaved to her so, when just this morning he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with her.

Marron looked up at him, weariness dulling her almond-shaped blue eyes.

"Do you think this is something other than g-r-i-e-f?" she asked, spelling out the word as though she were afraid Ron might understand and be more upset.

"Well, Paresu did tell us that he cried himself to sleep every night," Trunks kept his voice as quiet as possible.

Marron sighed. "But this has been going on since this afternoon."

He nodded. "How about if I call Paresu and ask her what she thinks?"

Laying her head back and closing her eyes, Marron said, "Sounds like a good idea to me."

Trunks left the room as quietly as possible, knowing that if Ron noticed his disappearance he'd become agitated. He grabbed the cordless phone and then Bura and Braun's address book from the drawer in the kitchen. He was back upstairs in under a minute.

He looked up Paresu's number and punched the keys on the telephone pad. It had rung at least a dozen times before he gave up.

"She's not home," he whispered to Marron.

"Call the paediatrician," she said.

"But it's after hours."

"Trunks, we could have a sick little boy on our hands here," she told him. "Do you know what signs to look for? Has he been acting normal today? Are you confident enough in your judgement to say he's _not_ sick? Can it hurt to simply as the doctor's opinion?

"Okay, okay." Even as he said the words, he flipped through the book to find the doctor's number.

He gave the answering service all the information and was told that the doctor would call him within the hour.

Marron continued to rock Ron in the silent darkness of the room, and Trunks stood in the doorway watching helplessly.

Finally the baby dozed off with his head resting against Marron's breast. Trunks thought it was a lovely, peaceful image.

"When the phone rang, Ron didn't stir. Trunks spoke to the doctor, took note of his instructions and cut the connection.

"The doctor wants us to take Ron's temperature," Trunks told her. "I'm going to find a thermometer."

He began his search in the bathroom off the hallway and happily discovered Bura's first aid kit. The covered plastic box contained swabs, gauze pads, antibiotic ointment, a thermometer, alcohol, and Trunks' eyes lit up when he saw a book on baby ailments and remedies.

"Thank Kami," he said to himself.

He returned to Ron's bedroom, his arms loaded with medical paraphernalia. Somehow, he didn't quite feel so helpless anymore.

"Here," he said, handing Marron the thermometer. "The doctor wants you to take Ron's temperature. You need to insert it – "

"Oh, no," she cut him off. "When I took this job, I never agreed to insert anything anywhere. That's the doctor's job. It's what he went to medical school for."

Trunks couldn't hold back his chuckle. "But, Marron, the doctor needs to know – "

"I am not going to wake up his child to do something to him that I know will make him very unhappy," she said. "So, if you're still determined to know if he's running a fever or not, then you're more than welcome to insert that thermometer – "

Again he chuckled. "Okay," he said. He picked up the baby book. "Let's just see if we can get the information some other way."

He quickly found instructions on "taking baby's temperature" and was pleased to see that "inserting" wasn't the only way to get the job done.

"It says here," Trunks told Marron, "that we can place the thermometer under his arm."

"I think I can handle that," she said.

As they waited for the recommended three minutes to elapse, Trunks looked up Ron's symptoms in the back of the book.

"He could have colic," he said. He read further. "Or he could be teething. It says here that molars sometimes cause a great deal of pain as the tooth breaks through the gum." After studying them for a few more silent moments, Trunks closed the book and took the thermometer from Marron's fingers.

He nodded. "He's got a slight fever. But nothing to be worried about. Let me feet." He slipped his index finger between Ron's lips and probed the baby's gums. Ron stirred when Trunks touched a swollen spot in the back of his mouth.

"That's it," Trunks said. "He's cutting a molar. It feels really sore, too. Poor kid."

"He's out like a light, though" Marron observed in a tired voice.

Trunks nodded. "Let me put him in his crib."

He put the baby to bed and tucked a cotton blanket over his bare legs.

"We didn't check his diaper," Marron said.

"Let's worry about that later."

Trunks held out his hand to help her from the chair, and he was pleased when she took it without hesitation.

"Come on downstairs and I'll fix us both a cup of decaf," he offered.

Marron stretched her neck, then reached around to massage her sore muscles. "Sounds good to me," she said.

They went downstairs, Marron to the family room to prop up her feet, and Trunks to the kitchen to prepare the coffee.

He poured the steaming hot liquid into mugs, thinking how great Marron had been with Ron. She'd stayed calm even though he knew she was feeling frustrated with the baby's tears. Maybe she did have a maternal bone or two in her body. One that he and his sister, Bura, had missed seeing.

When he came into the family room, he stopped in the doorway and smiled. Marron lay on the couch, her eyes closed, her lashes thick fans against creamy cheeks. Her deep, even breathing told him she was sound asleep.

He placed her mug on the table and sat down in the easy chair to drink his coffee. But something told him he was going to enjoy the view much more than the refreshment.

* * *

_Just a little update. Sorry. I realized it's been a month. I didn't mean to be mean._


	12. February 29th, a wet and wild undertakin

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

**February 29th, a wet and wild undertaking**

* * *

Something had changed. Marron could not quite put her finger on what it was, but her relationship with Trunks was… different. They had been living together in her brother's house now for more than a week. And their working routine was running very smoothly.

Trunks had been right about the time span needed for her to gain Ron's trust. After just three days, the baby clamored for her attention just as often as he called for Trunks'. She continued to feel overwhelmed with heart-wrenching love every time her nephew called, "Ma-won! Ma-won!" and demanded that she follow him as he examined some new and wondrous discovery.

The three of them had made some amazing strides over the days they had been living together. After the teething incident during which Ron was miserable for nearly two full days as his first molar pushed its way through his swollen gum, Marron and Trunks decided to visit the baby's pediatrician. The man told them many things about Ron that they had not known: he had no food allergies to date, he was prone to ear infections, he had not contracted chicken pox yet and probably would not until he began nursery school. The information made both her and Trunks feel more confident in their job as Ron's guardian.

But Marron felt they still had so much further to go. Yes, Ron was comfortable with her now; he even enjoyed their mornings together. But he would constantly go searching for Trunks where he worked in the office. Ron would only say in the room with his uncle for the briefest of moments, but every hour of so – just like clockwork- he would toddle to the office and reassure himself that Trunks was still around.

Marron smiled, thinking about the manner in which Trunks greeted Ron each time the child interrupted his work. He always smiled brightly and called out a hearty "hello," as though it were the first time he had seen the baby that day and that he was terribly grateful for the visit. Trunks never showed any signs of irritation or frustration over Ron's intrusion.

The funny thing was that the baby did the same thing to her when it was Trunks' turn to watch him in the afternoon when she was busy writing her food articles.

She and Trunks had talked about his behavior late one evening after the nightmare of putting him to bed was over and they had decided that having his parents whisked away from him had demolished any sense of security he had. They agreed that if Ron wanted to check on them a thousand times each day, it would be okay.

She sighed heavily as she thought about putting Ron to bed each evening. It was truly a nightmare. So much so that Marron hated to see the sun setting on the horizon. But then again, afternoon nap time was horrible too. It was during these times that the baby grieved so for his parents that he simply could not be consoled.

Dealing with their nephew's problems had somehow changed Marron and Trunks' relationship. They had begun to focus more on Ron, which was as it should be, and less on nitpicking with each other.

Because priority was placed on making Ron happy and content, it seemed that Trunks' sarcastic witticisms grew fewer and fewer, and because of that, Marron's criticism of him lessened also. All in all, arguments between Marron and Trunks had become a thing of the past. It was certainly nice to wake up in the morning and know that the day with Trunks would pleasant and calm rather than fraught with arguments and strife.

But there was bad that went along with this good. Since Trunks was keeping his taunting observations to a bare minimum, Marron was left unarmed against the attraction she felt for the man. It used to be that he would snuff out any desire she felt for him simply by opening his mouth. But because he was being very careful to keep the household atmosphere as tension free as possible, he was making it a point to be polite and amiable. And it was killing her!

Yes, Trunks was succeeding in lessening the angry tension between them, but his gentlemanly behavior was only heightening a different kind of tension – sexual tension.

She could actually feel the heavy pulse in the air when they were together. And she was beginning to wonder if he was feeling it too. She hoped not. If he did, she would feel –

"So, did he finally go to sleep?"

Although Trunks' voice was feather soft, it startled her from her reverie. He smiled when she lifted her gaze to his. The gentle concern displayed on his features made her heart pound. She wished he would not be so… so… nice to her. It only complicated her feelings.

She nodded, and then in an effort to avoid his eyes, she glanced around the family room. "I really should pick up some of these toys," she murmured, "before someone falls and breaks their neck."

His hand on her shoulder was warm and firm. "Don't you move," he told her, easing himself down on the couch beside her. "I know you've had a rough morning dealing with Ron. You deserve to just sit here and relax for just a few minutes."

His fingers gently massaged her taut shoulder muscles while his soothing tone did the same to her soul.

Hot tears sprang to her eyes, splintering the bright afternoon sunlight that filtered in through the white gauzy curtains. What was wrong with her? She wondered. Ron _had_ been extraordinarily rambunctious this morning, but Marron could not help having a sneaking suspicion that this unexpected teary feeling had more to do with Trunks' kindness and caring toward her. But she did not dare let on that his interest affected her in this way. Heck, if he knew he was causing her to cry, he would have a field day!

She rested her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.

"Trunks," she whispered hoarsely, "we have to do something for Ron. He misses his mommy and daddy."

"I know he does," Trunks said.

His warm fingers now trailed a silky path up and down her upper arm. She knew he was only trying to console her, but she wished he would go sit across the room. That would certainly make her life a lot easier.

"But," he continued softly, "unfortunately there's absolutely nothing we can do to ease his grief. We can be here for him. We can love him and hug him. Feed him and play with him. But we're not his mom and dad. And we can't bring them back. No matter how much we might want to."

"It's just that it breaks my heart to see him cry, to hear him call out for them over and over." The silent tear that slipped down her cheek had nothing to do with Trunks. It was for the frightened, lonely little boy who slept fitfully upstairs in the crib.

His palm cupped her elbow now, his thumb rubbing a slow rhythm over her tender skin.

He sighed heavily. "I have been thinking," he said.

She lifted her head and stared at him. At this point, she'd do anything to save Ron some of the anguish he was having to suffer.

"Where is it written that Ron has to have a set bedtime?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Well, why do we have to put him to bed at precisely eight-thirty every night and eight-thirty on the 29th of February?"

She felt her forehead wrinkle with a frown of confusion. "Because it's his bedtime," she answered simply. "He's tired out by then. Besides, you were the one who said that Bura kept him on a strict routine. Bath time, snack time, bedtime."

He removed his fingers from her arm to rake them through his hair. The spot on her arm where he had been touching her felt cold and empty.

"But Bura's gone," he stated, the first signs of frustration showing in his voice. "And we're here. And we need to… try something different."

After a moment of silence, Marron said, "Okay, so you don't want an eight-thirty bedtime." She looked at him, waiting for him to explain his idea further.

"Well," he said, "let's give him his bath –"

"It's your turn tonight, by the way." She couldn't help the grin that crept over her lips. Ron loved to splash, so bath time was a very wet and wild undertaking.

"Yeah, I know."

He, too, smiled, and Marron felt her heart leap. Why did he have to be so good-looking?

"Anyway," he continued, "let's give him a bath, feed him his snack and then all three of us curl up on the sofa here together and watch cartoon videos." He pointed at the oak cabinet by the television. "There's certainly enough of them to choose from over there."

She nodded slowly as the idea took shape in her head. At this point, she would try anything.

"Hopefully Ron will fall asleep right here and I can carry him upstairs to his crib." Trunks shrugged. "It's worth a try, don't you think?"

"Yes," she said quietly, realizing there was a quality in her voice that conveyed every ounce of frustration she was feeling. "Yes, I do."

Although she was no longer looking him in the face, she could feel his eyes on her. The silence grew thick and heavy, and Marron felt something stirring in the air – something that had nothing to do whatsoever with Ron and his problem.

Trunks draped his arm along the back of the couch, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. The heat of his touch seemed scorchingly hot, and Marron had to force herself not to flinch.

It was not that the pressure of his fingers on her was uncomfortable, not by any means. But the feel of his touch conjured confusing emotions in her, feelings and urges she either could not identify or did not want to deal with. He made her feel out of control. He made her feel as though she wanted his touch on more of her than just her shoulders. The curve of her neck seemed to call out for his attentive fingers. Her cheeks and lips wanted to feel his warmth. Deep inside her, curling tendrils of heat spiraled and writhed in wild abandon.

"Marron?"

Her eyelids flew open and she blinked several times. She had not even realized she had closed her eyes, had not been aware of just how focused she had become on the touch of his fingers on her shoulder.

She watched his mouth curl into a tiny grin. _Get ready,_ she told herself. _He's about to say something mean and humiliating._

"I thought maybe you'd fallen asleep," he said gently. "You were breathing so deeply and evenly."

Not sleeping, she silently admitted. Simply concentrating on something she had no business concentrating on.

"You've worked so hard with Ron all week," he said. "Why don't you take this afternoon off?"

Wait a minute, her subconscious warned. Nothing he had said had been mean or nasty. He had not embarrassed her or humiliated her. She felt her eyes narrow with suspicion. What was he up to?

"When Ron wakes up we can go to the mall or something," he continued softly. "Or if you'd rather be alone, you could go do some shopping by yourself." His smile widened. "Just think, a whole afternoon without work or men cluttering up your life."

It sounded like heaven. Wasting the entire afternoon away strolling through the mall, window-shopping with Trunks and Ron. They would laugh at Ron's antics. They would enjoy seeing the world through the baby's eyes. They would have fun. Together. It sounded terrifying.

"No," she stated emphatically, straightening her spine so she no longer reclined against the couch, so Trunks' hand no longer rested on her shoulder.

She felt stronger now that she did not have to contend with the soft pressure of his warm fingers in her skin.

"No," she repeated. "I have to work. My editors are expecting my article by the end of the week."

It was a bald-faced life. Her editors had told her to take her time recovering from the loss of her family, take her time getting used to dealing with her nephew. But her editors knew nothing about the problems she was having dealing with her feelings regarding Trunks.

Trunks seemed to withdraw. He crossed his arms over his chest. His blue eyes closed off all emotion. There was a coolness about him that made Marron suddenly feel alienated and alone.

Good, she though. This she could deal with. This wall of detachment would enable her to focus on learning all she could about rearing a child, so that in eight months' time she could break the news to Trunks that _she_ was the one who would raise the baby.

"You're sure?" His question was curt.

"Yes," she told him. "Quite sure."

She rose and went to the doorway where she paused.

"But I will join you and Ron tonight," she said. "Your idea sounds like a good one. And I really hope it works."

The coldness in his blue gaze softened and he nodded.

As Marron turned and walked away, she was left wondering why she had been impelled to compliment him. She felt that her praise only served to soften the mortar between the bricks holding together the wall of detachment she had so hastily built, and she couldn't fathom why she would do such a thing.


End file.
